Anticipation
by Sono la Notte
Summary: Modern Times. Two years after AC2, the war still isn't over. A certain Desmond Miles is assigned a simple nobody from Ohio, not knowing that their fates were intertwined. Desmond/OC Ezio/OC Altair/OC T for language and themes...
1. Chapter 1

_Hey y'all, back. This is an un-beta-ed story, just something that popped into my head and decided to post. Sorry for the summary, the story's a lot better than it sounds..._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed...yet**

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Fact: I can get out of bed, in the middle of the night, get dressed, and get everything I need (minus shoes) in 2 minutes and 5 seconds. Why do I know this? I tested myself each night, asking myself, "Would I really need this?" with everything I own. I wouldn't take my computer, because it's way too heavy and way too easy to trace. Besides, it's just a material good, right? I wouldn't take a journal, or a sketchpad, because I don't want anybody snooping around, and I can't draw to save my life. If it ever comes to that, I'll let you know. I don't bring a bag full of clothes, because, quite frankly, jeans, a shirt, and a peacoat do you quite well in the middle of the night. I don't take a cell phone or a handheld gaming device. I don't want the hassle of charging them, and they're (like the computer) much too easy to trace. I don't take makeup, a toothbrush, a hairbrush, or even deodorant. I don't take memorabilia of my life, meaning no pictures, no digital camera, no books, nothing.

What I do take is this:

My wallet, which contains however much money I have, and a two dollar bill I vowed never to spend. It also holds a picture of me and five other people at my homecoming dance in freshman year, which I'll throw out, along with an ID card, a library card, a debit card, a CPR certificate (although I should've thrown out a long time ago—it's expired), an old hotel room key, a coupon for the nearest ice cream parlor, a discount card for online music, a Joann's Fabrics gift card, movie stubs, and discounts for my next trip to the mall. This leaves me with a plain old wallet—made out of denim and practically worthless. I keep debating whether or not to take it, depending on how much money I have in it. If there's less than thirty dollars in it, I reasoned, it's not worth taking.

I also bring my watch. It's a leather cuff wallet I got for Christmas from my parents, and it doesn't get in the way of things, when it's not being useful.

I bring sunglasses as well. You never know where you're gonna go.

On my wrist I keep an elastic band, for tying my hair back with. It keeps getting too long, and I have to cut it every month or so.

For the rest of me, I wear whatever I was wearing the day before, a scarf, and my peacoat. It didn't matter if it was the middle of summer, or the dead of winter. Nights were chilly in my town, and it lowered my suspiciousness, because it was black and unnoticeable. The scarf goes with this as well, and I can do almost anything with it, like make, say, a dress, a shirt, a skirt, or a head covering (again, you never know where you're gonna go). As for footwear, I've never really gotten to that point yet, but I stick with white slip-on shoes or sheepskin boots (depending on the weather, of course).

All of these things I can fit in my pockets of my peacoat, another advantage of the wonderful jacket.

There are things I regret to not bring, like a guitar pick or a capo. These things are, again, material goods, and I never know when I'd see a guitar again.

I don't know why I do this, but I do it every Wednesday night, starting at different times each week. I make up different obstacles, like "what would happen if there was a fire?" or "what if you had to bring a weapon?" or even, "if you could pack a bag in the time allotted, what would you pack?"

The answers to these scenarios are:

Go through the same routine, but save the valuables. We have insurance.

Weapons can be fashioned from anything.

I would still bring just the stuff I could fit in my pockets.

I had no idea this practice would be put to good use.

No idea at all.

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**I'm posing another Chapter, just to get a move on with what I have.**


	2. Chapter 2

_By the way, the first sentence IS a fact, for me. I tried it._

**Des-claimer: I do not own Assassins Creed or any of it's characters...but I will kidnap that sexy Patrice Desilets...**

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It was another Wednesday night. I put my stopwatch next to my bed, like always. The key was to keep calm, and not to anticipate. I had a random time generator, so I had no idea when the tiny _beep_ was going to go off. At one point, I was falling asleep waiting, so I just turned the watch off. I was tired that night; I had had a long day.

Ever since I'd started doing the timers, I'd been getting these weird dreams. There was always a man, and he looked the same every time. At one point we were in Renaissance Italy, another time we were in the time of the Crusades. I'd become obsessed with the dreams. I would research on them, but every time I tried to dig deeper than seven weblinks in, I'd be stopped by this certain government-type thing called Creed Securities. It was really high-tech, and it seemed to be following me around the internet. Anything it deemed "too deep", it would send me back to start, no not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. I had even tried going to the local library, and even their computers were blocked. Every book I checked out about the Crusades or Renaissance History always lead me back to the same word: Creed. There was a book I'd come across while browsing called The History of the Hashashin, while I was researching the Crusades. I hadn't checked it out (I already had eight books—the maximum), but the next time I inquired about it, the librarian, Mrs. Rowe, told me that it was checked out. I was sure that there was some sort of law that said you couldn't keep a library book for more than a few weeks, but I was wrong. Months passed by, and I hadn't seen the book anywhere in the indexes, the shelves, or the unsorted pile. It was still checked out in the system. The key was to keep calm, and not anticipate. It would show up one day, I was sure.

But the dreams weren't the source of my bad day, though they contributed to it greatly. I was on winter break, and I was attempting to hack my way into Creed Securities. I couldn't believe all the encryption on the site alone. The login page consisted of an ID name, an email, a PIN number, and four passwords, all case-protected. I had asked about Creed Securities, and nothing had come up in any system, anywhere. I thought for a while that it was just a virus on my computer, but on the library's as well? Not bloody likely.

I was looking through the site directory when I came across a name—my name. I refreshed the page (a horrible sin for any hacker—it deletes all of your progress) and looked at it again. There was my name, squashed between two others under the category 'Youth Resources'. I closed the page and shut down my computer. I listened to the radio for a while, played my guitar for an hour. I took a walk outside, to try to clear my head. Unfortunately, when I'm in thinking mode, I think in binary—you know, the little ones and zeroes that you see in all of the Matrix movies? All of the tiny green numbers were sliding through my cerebellum at thirty million miles an hour, trying to make sense of it all. I had no idea why my name was on there. I mean, my name was pretty common, right?

When I got home, no one was there. All of the yard work in the back was laying around, as if someone had all of a sudden bailed on the garden we were all excited about. I took my time enjoying my loneliness. I played videogames in silence, which was odd, considering that it was usually mind-killingly loud when I played. I took a shower, and washed my hair. By now night was falling fast, and no one was home still. I tried calling each of my parents' cell phones, but they had left them at the house. None of my brothers' friends were coming around. The cars were still in the driveway. I made myself a frozen burrito and caught up on my shows. I realized it was a Wednesday and cursed myself at staying up too late. I got ready for bed, putting on cotton shorts and a black shirt. I sigh and lay back in my bed, my back creaking with pain.

Seemingly seconds after falling asleep, there was a tap on my door. Or at least I thought it was my door. I ignored it and tried to get back to sleep. It was probably the cat, trying to seek refuge in my room from the dog. I sat up in my bed rather quickly, and held my breath. I hadn't seen the cat _or_ the dog all day. This was crazy; how long had I been gone?

Again, the tap. I felt my toes curl up in fear. I cover my head with blankets and lay back again. It's just a dream, I'm just imagining it. It's just paranoia setting in. My name probably wasn't on that website. It was just my mind playing tricks on me. I haven't been sleeping well, the dreams, the dreams…it's just a dream, it's just a dream.

I've seen this one. A man comes into my room, no, _the_ man comes into my room, and tells me I have to get out of the house. I don't see his face, because it's too dark, but I don't turn on the light. I pack quickly, bringing only what I've learned to pack, and…the dream ends. This dream was the first I'd ever had. It was the one that had inspired me to start the timing.

Another tap. I'm holding my breath under the covers. I try to make it look like I'm asleep, like I have no idea what's going on.

Something slides open, and my room is suddenly cold. Quickly, but carefully, I slip my head out of the covers, and close my eyes. My hands are shaking. It's my window. It's not my door. Somebody curses softly when they hit the blinds, but they push them out of the way, along with the curtains. It's him, it's the man. I could recognize his voice. The key is to keep calm, and not anticipate.

As they stepped forward towards the bed, I was ready to just bolt out of there, but I was sure he was faster. I couldn't feel my hands. My palms were all clammy. A hand rested on my bare shoulder. It was warm. "Hey." He said. I didn't move. "Wake up." He said. I stirred slightly, but gave nothing away. "Hey, you've gotta wake up, okay?" he said in a low voice. It was raspy, and annoyingly familiar. I rolled over and opened my eyes groggily.

The moon was full that night, so pure white light streamed in the open window. I hadn't seen moonlight in the longest time, because of the curtains and the blinds that keep out the sun. Although the rest of my room was lightened up, I couldn't see his face still. "What's going on? Who are you?" I asked slowly. I knew this man, I knew him from somewhere. Not just from the dreams. I _knew _him.

"My name is Desmond Miles and I'm here to keep you safe." Desmond. His name was Desmond.

"Why do I need to be safe?" I asked. I looked around my illuminated room, but there were no bombs, no guns, no ninjas.

"I'll tell you later, but for now, we need to leave. Get up." He said, pulling back the covers. I shivered a little, clad in only my cotton shorts and black tank top. I saw my discarded jeans on the floor by my closet, right where I had left them.

I then reacted. This was what I had been preparing for. What I had been practicing and perfecting. I knew how long it would take me to get ready. "Take only what you need most. You have five minutes before…we need to go." I ignored his words, already rushing around, collecting my jeans, scarf, peacoat, watch, sunglasses, and wallet—which held $170. This Desmond guy had good timing. I looked around at everything else in my room, everything screaming for attention. I decided I had more room in my pockets and I stuffed the Italian phrase book in the pocket with my wallet.

"Done." I said, pulling on the white slip-ons from my closet. I looked longingly at the discarded sheepskin boots in the back of the basket. They were so warm…

"That was fast. Do you have a passport?" he asked. A passport. I hadn't thought of that yet. I cursed myself for not preparing faster, but I nodded and retrieved it out of my safe. The safe was fireproof, and it held my birth certificate, and my social security number.

"Okay." I said, slipping on my watch. It was close to three in the morning.

"That's all you're gonna bring?" he asked, a little speculative.

"It's all I need." I said. He looked at me evenly for a second, and nodded once.

"Come on." He said. He opened my door and walked down the hallway, and down the stairs. By the time I was even at the landing to go down, he was out the door. My footsteps were loud and uneven as I trudged through my empty house. No one was in any room I passed. All the doors were open. What was _really _going on?

I smelled something sweet, but bitter. Gasoline? "Do you smell gasoline?" I asked once I was out the door. Desmond was standing in front of a black sports car. I couldn't tell what make it was, but it had to be foreign. Suddenly, something at my back exploded, and I was thrown from my feet. I landed in the snow, but I still hit my head on something. I groaned and rolled over. There were too many noises…car alarms? I was pulled up by Desmond. "That's my _house_!" I yelled. I struggled against him, trying to go back. "Let me GO!" I shouted at him. We were about five feet away from the sports car, but I had to do what I did next.

I stuck my feet out in front of me, kicking snow onto the top of it. I closed my eyes, and thrashed around. "Let me go, please!" I shouted. This man was practically _kidnapping_ me, though I didn't know the world for someone who's overage. Desmond didn't let me go, though. He simply stayed put, waiting for me to calm down. I slackened my legs a little bit and Desmond got the false idea that I was giving up. He took a step forward, with me in his arms. I coiled and sprung back against the car. He was knocked off-guard and went stumbling backwards. I was free. I ran down the street screaming, yelling, and "Help me! He's trying to kidnap me!" happened to come out a few times.

As I had expected, Desmond had caught up to me, wrapping his arms around me again, but this time, he had me in a complicated hold I'd only seen on wrestling teams. I struggled even more, and he just squeezed my body once and I'd give up. He had my left leg up by my right ear, my arms tucked behind my back, and my head tilted backwards, against his face. "I'm not trying to kidnap you. I'm here to keep you safe. That bomb would've killed you, and you wouldn't have known what was going on. Understand? Now, get in the car." He growled. He dropped me in the snow, and I felt like a doll, all muscle and no bone. My house burned behind me.

You're probably gonna say "How stupid is this person?" but I already knew that sooner or later, I was going to get in that car. I took off in the other direction, repeating my actions. "This guy blew up my house!" might have come out, and soon, I was in an even more complex hold, and I couldn't feel my feet after three seconds. "Stop." I gasped, trying to suck in air. My head was pushed down by my sternum, and I could feel Desmond's warm breath on my neck as he carried me to the car.

I was pushed in the backseat. Before I had time to register what was going on, I had my hands cuffed to other sides of the car, and my legs were bound with duct tape. "You were so cooperative before, what happened?" he asked as he pulled out of the street and onto the lone freeway. I could still feel the traces of heat from my house, from my bed, but now I was being warmed by a heater in the car. The little insignia on the steering wheel told me we were in a Porsche. What kind of kidnapper/arsonist/"security" drives a _Porsche_?

"What's your name?" he asked as we headed east. I kept my mouth shut. My lip trembled once, but he had caught it. "I'll take the handcuffs off if you don't try to crash the car." He offered, but I looked away. My nose itched and I was supremely annoyed by the fact my arms were spread-eagled. I could feel my wallet, passport, and Italian phrase book in my left pocket, and my sunglasses in the other. My watch was on my wrist. I had tightened it too much this time. My scarf around my neck and my peacoat kept me warm for the next thirty minutes of silence.

Desmond didn't speak. I didn't make a move. I just looked out the window, trying to get a look at where he was taking me. "Where are we going?" I whispered as we took the exit to the airport. My voice was hoarse from all the yelling.

"I'll tell you everything once we get there." He said. Because I had my passport, I could be taken anywhere. I had my ID in my wallet. I had forgotten to throw it out. I still had a bunch of crap in there that I didn't need. I sighed once, and tested the chains on the handcuffs. They were strong, made of titanium. I could tell because 'Made of Titanium' was stamped into the side. I was giving up with every second that passed. What did total helplessness feel like? Desmond parked in the airport lot. Killing the engine, he turned back around to me.

"You see this?" he asked, pulling up his sleeve. The light from the lampposts bathed his face in yellow light, but his features were indistinguishable, except for his seemingly golden eyes and the scar on his lip. On his forearm was a kind of mechanism, oddly designed, and I could see there was more than meets the eye. I nodded once and he did something with his hand—flicked it, I guess—and this foot-long blade jumps out of nowhere. It glints in the light, and it looks dangerous. "This is a killing machine I have trained for basically my entire life. If you try to run, I will turn you into a human kebab. If you try to talk to anyone, I will stab you in the neck. If you try to act suspicious or act in some way that will get us in trouble, I will kill you. Do you understand?" he asked, his eyes boring holes in me. I stared him down. This man was a killer.

"Who are you?" I growled. With a _shink_, the blade slipped back to its normal slot. Desmond turned around, pulling the sleeve over his wrist. He was wearing a white sweatshirt and black pants. I was pretty sure his pants were black. Desmond didn't answer me as he uncuffed me, nor when he walked me to the airport entrance. I wished I would've worn the boots now…

"Hello, welcome to American Airlines. How may I help you?" a woman asked from behind the desk. I kept my face blank. She was the kind of pretty everyone wanted to be. Desmond flashed a smile full of white teeth, and even I had a hard time looking away.

"Hi, I was just taking my girlfriend with me to New York City for the holidays. When does the next plane leave?" the airline woman looked me over, in my peacoat and messy hair. I managed a small smile.

"In…thirty minutes. Would you like another time?" she asked, tilting her blonde little head to the side.

"No, that's fine. I'll have two first-class tickets, please." He fished a wallet out of his pants. I was right. They were black. In the harsh light, I could see that his skin was tanned, and his hair was a dark brown.

As the airline lady processed it, Desmond passed her his ID and his credit card, though both were under the name of Peter Hamilton. "Okay…Mr. Hamilton, your flight is in gate G-4." The woman smiled at me and blinked her eyes twice, a dismissal.

"Come on." Desmond said, pulling me through the halls. We passed coffee shops that weren't open, 24-hour gift shops, restaurants of every kind. I felt so hungry right then, and Desmond seemed to read my mind, because he pulled me into one of those fast-food chains and ordered for both of us. He got a coffee, and I got a cheeseburger, fries, a drink, a salad, a milkshake, and hash browns.

"Wha—?" I asked, before he stuffed the cheeseburger he'd unwrapped into my mouth. I had no choice but to start eating.

"This may be the last thing you eat for a while." He said, sticking his head under the table. I jumped back, when something hit my leg. I tore the cheeseburger into three parts, devouring the first piece in seconds. The grease dripped onto my hands, and I reached for a napkin. "No time for that, just eat." He said, opening a manila envelope that must've been taped to the underside of the table. I watched with interest as I washed the burger down with the drink and a handful of fries. God, why was I so hungry? I finished the burger a minute later, moving onto the salad. I mixed the fries into it, so I could accomplish two at once. The drink was half gone, and the milkshake was waiting. Desmond's coffee was untouched. He was reading something in the envelope. He took out a small sheet of paper, and slid it across the table to me. I had about half of the salad to go, but I inspected it. "Do you know any of these people?" he asked.

"That's my dad! And my brothers! Why do you have—"

"Shhh." He said, looking around at the empty dining area. The counter guy was asleep. "This is your father." He pointed at his picture. I nodded, sucking down the last bits of the soda. I knew I was going to throw up later. "And these are your brothers." He pointed at their pictures as well. They were sectioned off into thirds, with a short bit of information I couldn't read underneath them. "Eat your food. We have ten minutes before the plane begins to board." He looked at his own watch, which I hadn't seen before, and covered it up again. It was on his right arm, the one that didn't have the retractable blade on it. I was still nervous about that, but I could immerse myself in the food. The salad was done, and Desmond stood up, his face stony and blank. He looked at the front of the store. The gate facing directly opposite it was G-1. I stood up as well. "Can you eat and walk?" he asked. I nodded and scooped up the remaining food before he could whisk it away with the tray. I got to about an eighth of the milkshake before taking a bite of hash brown.

We were at the gate specified by the woman up front when he started talking again. "Your father and brothers went missing yesterday." He said. I stumbled on my feet a bit.

"Missing?" I said after swallowing roughly. "What do you mean? I saw them yesterday morning, and when I went for a walk, they were gone. What about my mom? She wasn't there either." I could feel a slight chill set into my toes.

"They were taken by a group of people known as the Templar Knights." He said, staring straight ahead. "We have evidence that they've been taken to England, seeing as that is the Templar Headquarters, but we're running out of leads. As for your mother…we don't know."

"You don't know if someone is missing?" I asked. "And who is 'we'? And why did the…the Templars take my family?" I hissed. I had heard about the Knights Templar in history, and my recent research of the Crusades and the Renaissance. They would kill without thinking, they were ruthless. But…hadn't they disbanded in the 15th century? This was impossible!

"We don't know…and I'll explain when we get to our headquarters."

The intercom said, "Now boarding, Flight 2741 to New York. Now boarding."

"Where is that?" I asked.

"Italy."

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_You guessed it....another chapter._


	3. Chapter 3

_Hmmm. This triple chapter thing is fun..._

**Disssclaaaiiiimeeerrr: dontowndontsue.**

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I sat in silence in my first-class chair. Desmond had fallen asleep, and I was thinking about doing the same, though he had told me not to. I fiddled with my scarf, and all of its frayed edges. I thought about my family. Missing. My missing family. I couldn't believe this was happening. I had a class this morning. I didn't know what it was about, but I knew it was in guitar, and I wanted so bad to play. I could feel my fingers itching for chords, for notes, for the strings. I could hear the exercises play through my head as we flew across the clouds. Desmond was asleep the entire four-hour flight, and I was awake. I asked the stewardess to bring me a coffee, and she did.

When we landed in New York, Desmond waited outside the bathroom while I changed. I had to throw away all of my clothes once we got to Italy, but I had bought myself shorts, a tank top, and some better sunglasses. Our plane was going to board in an hour. I was curled up on the airplane benches, sleeping in my jeans and peacoat—the last time I'd see them.

I woke up with my head in someone's lap. Desmond's face looked down at me. I bolted upright, looking around. "Now boarding Flight 0313 to Florence. Now boarding." The intercom said. I rubbed my eyes, still tired.

"We have to board, come on."

he said, and I stood up.

"Am I allowed to sleep on the plane, or are you gonna kill me for that too?" I asked under my breath as we stepped past the terminal gate.

"It's better that you don't." He said. Not the answer I was looking for, but…

We sat in our seats—first class, again—and waited to take off. I felt myself slip into unconsciousness a couple of times, and finally sleep embraced me, and I dreamed.

_I was running through the crowded streets of—where was I again? It didn't matter. All that mattered was that I delivered the message to him. He _must_ get the message. I turned into an alley, seeing a pile of hay. I dove into it before anyone could see me. I breathed in and out, waiting. The key was to be calm, and not anticipate. Don't anticipate, don't anticipate, don't anticipate. I heard the guards walk by, frustrated that they had lost me. The hay was scratchy against my face. I didn't move._

_An hour passed, and soon I could no longer see the light outside. I was waiting, waiting, not anticipating. Soon everything was quiet around me. Everything was asleep. As I began to move, a hand clamped down on my shoulder._

I gasped aloud. I looked around me. Desmond was looking at me, and since we were the only first-class fliers, we were alone. Outside, it was brightly lit and hot. I told Desmond I'd change now, and he let me go to the bathroom. I got in the tiny five by three room and sat down on the sink, my butt hanging in the tiny dip.

What was that dream? The hand had felt so real, the hay as well. I didn't know where I was, but I was obviously delivering something. What? I shook my head and started changing. The shorts were shorter than I'd expected, and the shirt tighter. Was it cabin pressure or all of that junk food? Once I returned to my seat, we were beginning to descend. "How long was I asleep?" I asked. He handed me a cup of soda. I sipped it as he spoke.

"About six hours. You were exhausted, and the food made no difference. But we can't eat up here." He said.

"Why?" I asked, looking around.

"It tastes like crap."

We landed two hours later, in a run-of-the-mill airport ten miles out of Florence. Desmond said there was a car waiting for us, and I wasn't surprised to see a black Porsche waiting in the loading zone. This was a slightly bigger car, the Porsche Cayenne, and I couldn't see anyone in it from this angle. "Is there someone in the car?" I asked.

"Shouldn't be. But we're sort of protective about those kind of things." He scoffed once and told me to get in the passenger side. Since we were in a European country, his instructions confused me for a moment. I eventually got it, and got in. The inside of the car was all black leather, and the windows were tinted. Desmond immediately started driving. I looked in the side mirror behind us. There was a black Mini trailing us.

"Desmond, we're being followed." I said.

"I know. They're ours." He said, not flinching.

Silence is funny, in a context. Some people think silence is only relative to the noise preceding it, and vice versa. I'm one of these people.

I looked out the window at the beautiful countryside, amazed. I'd never travelled out of the country, only when my family took me to Hawaii for my high school graduation. I'd never seen any of this at home. "Keep your head back." Desmond instructed. I sat back, but my eyes remained glued to the scenery.

"It's beautiful." I said, more to myself than anyone.

"It's cow pastures and olive farms." He said. He kept his eyes on the road, heading for some unseen destination. The Mini behind us was gone.

"Why is that car gone?" I asked.

"They're changing the guard. The next car will be red. Once we hit the twenty kilometer landmark, it'll be gone." Sure enough, a red Mini took up position behind us.

"Why do you have security detail following us?" I asked.

"Precious cargo." He said.

"What?" I asked. He couldn't mean me.

"I was told to bring you here, to headquarters. People were trying to kill you. I saved you, and I'm here to transport you. I was told it was high-priority. How's your head?" he asked. My head? I gave him a befuddled look and looked in the mirror in the visor. Sure enough, there was a big fat bruise on my forehead.

"How did that happen?" I asked quietly.

"Probably when I dropped you on the ground." Desmond said. I could see him bite his lip; I just scowled. I rubbed at it, earning me a sharp bit of pain. I closed the mirror and the visor. I put my sunglasses on.

A couple of minutes passed before I saw the red car was gone. "Uh…Desmond, are we at the twenty kilometer point?" I asked.

"What?" he asked.

"The car, it's—" I saw another car come up next to us. Desmond looked over; the first time he'd taken his eyes from the road. The passenger put a cell phone up to his ear, and sure enough, a phone started ringing. It came from Desmond's pocket. He flipped it open, and in less than ten seconds, he had it closed, and back in his pocket.

"This is where we say goodbye." He said. "Listen to me very closely." I nodded. "The car next to me will open their door, and you will open your door as well. Unbuckle your seatbelt." I did as he said. "Now, listen. He's gonna count to three, and on three, you'll jump into the other car."

"Okay—what?!" I asked. Desmond reached over me and I had about two seconds to react before the door opened. I felt my heart rate go up and I began to panic. The air outside the door roared at the speed we were going.

"Don't anticipate, wait for him!" Desmond shouted over the wind. I felt my mind lock down. Don't anticipate, keep calm. How had he known that?

The car across from me still had its door closed. I looked down at my watch. It said it was two in the morning. I would change it, if I lived. The door finally opened across from me, and a man peered out the door. "_Uno_," he said, holding up an index finger. "_Due_," he was speaking Italian. "_Tre_!" he yelled, pushing himself out of the car, pulling me forward.

"_Andare! Andare!"_ the driver yelled. I scrambled into the car, nearly losing a foot in the process. I was sitting backwards in the seat when the door closed, making it especially difficult to turn around. I checked my pockets. I still had my sunglasses, my wallet (though money didn't matter now, I guess), my phrase book, my passport, and my watch. "_Mi chiamo Paolo. Come sta? Ferito?"_ Paolo asked.

"I'm fine. Eh…_bene._ _Parla inglese_?" I asked.

"Not much." He said, his heavy accent giving his voice a huskiness to it. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine. That was a little scary." I commented. Obviously Paolo was livelier than Desmond. I looked at his arm. There was no retractable blade on it. I decided not to comment on this. "So where are we going?" I asked.

"_Andiamo a Firenze._" He said, looking forward. The black Porsche was nowhere in sight. "_Noi circa dieci minuti lontano._" Obviously his English wasn't as good as I'd hoped. Fortunately I had caught the gist of it. About three or four miles away, I could see a great walled city. "Have you ever been to _Firenze_?"

"No." I said, mesmerized.

"_Ottimo_! You will love it!" he said. I had no idea what he meant by that.

As much as I knew about Italian culture, I had no idea how to speak, read, or understand Italian. I was going to take a course in Italian Studies next term, but obviously the universe had better plans for me. Paolo and I had a very short, very boring conversation about why I was here. I caught some words, like 'l'America', 'italia', and 'assassini', but not much else. Obviously four years of Spanish in high school weren't doing me any good.

I found a phrase in my book, and decided to ask it after going over it in my mind. "_A che ora arrivamo a Firenze?_" When do we arrive in Florence?

"Soon. _Vedere!_" he exclaimed. We were at the city gates now, and Paolo had slowed to a stop behind a familiar-looking Porsche Cayenne. "_Penso che Desmond._" He said, looking at me.

"_Si._" I agreed.

Ten minutes passed before a gap in the line allowed us to slip through quickly. The Cayenne was leading the way through the cluster of cars and honking. Apparently, there had been an accident. Don't get me wrong, I'm not psychic, but I could easily see the smoke from the front of the line, thank you very much. We passed the accident and turned left a couple seconds later. Paolo hung a sharp right and headed straight. There was no one in the streets, as I'd thought they would be. They were walking on sidewalks. Through a serpentine sort of path, Paolo made his way up to a church. Here, there were more people, making it harder to navigate. Suddenly, we were cast in shadow, and I leaned forward on the dashboard to see the top. "_Il Torre di Santa Maria Novella._" Paolo said, whistling low. "I climb that once."

"You _did_?" I asked, awed. It was _huge_, how could anybody climb that!? Paolo went around it and down a ramp. He headed straight until he parked the Mini on the side of the road. He got out, and I did as well. I found him in the crowd, and followed him down the street a bit until he stopped in front of a beautiful mansion.

"This is where I leave you. Go inside, and go up the stairs. _Detto_ _la_ _signora bionda si chima_. _Arrivederci, bella mia._" He held my hand to his lips, and I felt my face get hot. He pushed me in the direction of the mansion, and I noticed the various flags all over the place.

The inner sanctum of the mansion was gorgeous, and it was hard to focus on the door when everything else was so pretty. Only in Italy, I suppose. I opened the door and stepped in.

I nearly jumped back in surprise when I saw the inside of the mansion. It was entirely modernized, and looked like a military compound more than anything. I remembered what Paolo told me. I saw a set of stairs in the back left corner of the room I was standing in, and I went up.

The hallway I was deposited in went two ways: one led to a set of windows that showed an almost-entire view or Florence. I assumed that the "blonde woman" wouldn't be one for sightseeing. The other direction led to a large room, with a red chair in the middle. The chair looked strange, more like a piece of contemporary art than actual furniture. There were computers all over the room, all of them on standby. There was no one in the room.

Unfortunately, I had looked everywhere but up. I was tackled to the floor, my breath leaving me with an '_oof_'. "Who are you?" the person above me yelled. It was a woman.

"Let me go! I was kidnapped, please let me go!" I wailed. She got off of me and I rolled over to get a better look at her. She was blonde, and she had bright blue eyes that bored into my skull.

"Who are you?" she said again, towering over me.

"I…was kidnapped by a man named Desmond Miles, and then he brought me to Italy. I think he's crazy, he thinks he's an assassin, and he has this knife things on his arm, and then he made me jump out of a moving car—and this guy Paolo just _left_ me here!" I was hyperventilating. This was craaazy.

"My name is Lucy Stillman. We need to have a little talk." She pulled me up to my feet and sat me down in a comfy looking chair about ten feet away. Unfortunately, looks can be deceiving. It felt like sitting on a piece of frayed wood. I probably would have splinters in my butt…

"Okay, just for the record, Desmond isn't crazy. Desmond _is_ an assassin. We're part of a group of assassins all over the world. There's a war going on, and we can't let important people fall into the wrong hands."

"What do you mean, important people? What do you mean, the wrong hands?" I asked, feeling slightly panicked.

"Important people like you, but I'll get to that in a second. By the wrong hands, I mean the Templars. They are the bad guys, the people we're fighting. Abstergo is a Templar company." The drug company? "Their wide reach gives them a huge berth to experiment in, and control." She looked up at me. "It's better to have you see firsthand." She stood up and walked over to the red chair. "Take a seat."

"I don't know…what is that?" I asked.

"This is called the Animus. Animus 2.0, really. It…I'll explain once you're in. Sit down." I did as I was told and sat down. I leaned back against the seat. For some reason, I thought of Desmond.

"How does Desmond tie into all of this?" I asked.

"Desmond?" she asked. "Desmond shares the same abilities as you. Hold your breath, please." She said, and I did. With a slight pinch, she stuck a needle in my forearm, and I barely saw a glass wall slide over my face before I blacked out.

I was in a white room. It wasn't pure white, but it was accented with large square-ish figures. It looked like a giant chessboard, but many of them, on and on and on forever. "Where am I?" I asked.

Lucy's voice filled the area around me, but I was alone. "You're in the loading space. It's like…a subconscious. I don't have my partners here to fill me in right now with the other basic information, so you're just gonna have to make do with me."

"Okay…what does the Animus do?" I asked, walking around a bit. My footsteps didn't echo, and I tried jumping, but it seemed there was no ground, yet there was a sense of gravity.

"I'm gonna have to start at the beginning…what is a memory?" she asked.

"A…recollection of a past thought or action." I said, trying to sound scientific.

"True. Our research in memories has gone way further than expected in the last five, ten years. Desmond was one of seventeen test subjects used by Abstergo, the only successful one, really."

"What happened to the other sixteen?" I asked. Judging by her silence, it didn't end well. "Well, what was he…I don't know, tested for?" I asked.

"He was put in an Animus, like the others, and we found a genetic ancestor of interest."

"Wait. You can _find_ ancestors through the machine?" I asked skeptically.

"Find them, see them…_be_ them." She said, and I looked around, trying to find something I could pick out from the dizzying array of squares. "The Animus unlocks the genetic code, giving the subject the opportunity to simulate and live their ancestors' lives. Meanwhile, the machine records it for information about the time, and the person."

"I think I understand…you were talking about your partners awhile ago…what do they do?"

"They provide technical support, they give database entries for historical events, all the things I never really wanted to do."

"And what _did_ you want to do?" I asked.

"Watch." The world around me blazed bright, and I was thrown back in time.

* * *

MWAHAHAHAHAHA REVIEW


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey I feel really sorry for that sucker who tried to plagiarize my story...not._

**Disclaimer: I'm a good author and I remember to put these in here. Don't own, don't sue. Ya hear?**

* * *

The world around me was changing at the speed of light. Art, inventions, buildings, everything was moving, doing things, leaving the past behind.

"Messer da Vinci!" I exclaimed as I saw him on the other side of the river. He was buying paints and canvases, no doubt for his next commission. The Venetian sun shone overhead like a ball of smiling light.

(Leonardo da Vinci: Database Not Found)

The man turned around, his clear blue eyes visible from even across the river. I could see him squint in the sun. I waved, and he recognized me. "Nora? How good to see you!" he answered over the shouts of merchants. I wanted to get across, but the next bridge wasn't for another fifty meters or so. I saw two gondolas passing each other, and I bunched up my dress in two hands.

Thankfully, the gondolas were empty, and the gondoliers saw what I was doing. They stopped in their tracks and let me bound across the boats. I had lost my footing a second too soon, and I began to pitch forward…into the river. The gondoliers caught this before I had, and I was caught by two hands. I gasped aloud and scrambled to the platform on the other side. I was deposited onto the ground, the hems of my dress a little damp. I stood up and turned to face my rescuer.

He, in his bravery, had fallen into the river. I covered my face with my hands and bit back the giggles at the sight of the man thrashing about in the dirty Venetian water. "_Dio mio,_ did I do that?" I asked aloud, earning me a couple of chuckles from bystanders, including Messer da Vince himself. The man pulled himself out of the water and shook himself off, careful not to get any water on other people. "_Mi dispiace_, Messer…?" I asked.

"Ezio. Call me Ezio." He laughed, pulling his soggy, wet hood up before I could see his face. He was wearing a blue cape, with the gold Venetian lion emblazoned across it. I turned back around to Messer da Vinci.

"Well. This is _imbarrazzante_. That did not go as well as I'd intended it to." I laughed. Messer da Vinci laughed as well.

"Ahh, I saw it coming. Clumsy girl like you, it's a wonder at all how I could paint you without you falling over!" he laughed, making my face turn red.

"I can't fall over when I'm sitting down," I said, shaking my head.

"I see you've met Ezio." He said, laughing. He looked over my shoulder at the tall, dripping man now lying in the sun.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, is he your friend?" I said, becoming more and more embarrassed by the minute.

"One of my best, if not the best." He said, staring off for a second. "So, how are you, Nora? What has my favorite model been up to?"

"_Va bene_. I've been better. I'm out of a job, ever since Messer Botticelli left _Venezia._" I'd modeled for him twice before, earning large sums of money. I hadn't heard that Messer da Vinci was in Venice until a day or two ago, and I'd been looking for his workshop for hours when I'd found him. I'd known the painter since I was very young, when my father had introduced us when we were getting family portraits. The young painter had given me a toy so I would sit still, and I still have it in my room, on a shelf.

"I just moved here on a commission from the Doge. All of my assistants are back in _Firenze_, and it's a hassle to hire them again. Do you think you can stop by my workshop later today?"

"I can help you now!" I said, picking up a basket of paints. It was heavier than I'd thought, so I adjusted it to the other hip.

Laughing, Messer da Vinci said, "Nora, I hope your father knows about this." My face fell.

"_Mi padre_ caught plague not a year ago. _Mi madre _as well."

"I am very sorry to hear that. They were some of my best patrons." I managed a small smile. "So where are you staying now? Do you still have your _palazzo_?" he asked. I shook my head.

"I stay wherever I'm welcome. _Mi fratinello_ sold it to some man named Guare. Now, my brother lives in _Roma_, with his wife and _famiglia_." Da Vinci started walking, and I followed him, the looming presence of Ezio standing behind me. I tried to ignore him.

"And you did not go with him?" Ezio spoke up from behind me. I nearly jumped at his low voice.

"No. He has seven children; I would just be a burden, he says." I shrugged and continued walking. "But I'm doing fine, as long as I can _pagare_ the rent and have a decent _lavoro_." We all laughed shortly, even Ezio. I liked Ezio's laugh. It felt…rare.

(Sorry, I'm not so good with translating the Italian. But you studied it, right?)

A couple of minutes later and we were standing in front of Messer da Vinci's workshop. It was large, about a quarter of the size of a church. It was made with red bricks, and white plaster, giving it a completely homemade feel. "Come inside." Messer da Vinci said. I nodded and followed him and Ezio in. There were papers everywhere, and discarded sketches, ideas, and notes, always in that peculiar mirror script he had taught me when I was seven. "Would you like some _vino_? I've got some Chianti from Ezio's uncle Mario, it's magnificent!" I nodded and set the basket down on an empty table. Unfortunately, that was the only empty thing in the room, and I was left to stand there with Ezio.

"So…how do you know Messer da Vinci?" I asked after a beat.

"He's a friend of the family." He said, his low voice making it sound like it's never been used. "You sound like you know him pretty well."

"Yes, well, my father introduced me to him when I was six, and he was my second tutor until he left for _Firenze_." I shrugged. "He taught me everything I know." I said, admiring the way I could understand his writing.

"You look like you understand his writing." He inquired when I didn't look up from his outline of an agricultural invention. It seemed to aerate the fields without much manpower.

"Hmm? Yes, I can read it. I can write it, too." I smiled and looked around for a quill and parchment. I found some sitting on a desk and I wondered where Messer da Vinci was. In the mirror script, I wrote my name and the date: Nora Titanimo di Venezia, January 7, 1482.

* * *

Lucy's voice returned to me gradually, slowly. "What happened?" I asked carefully.

"I pulled you out. We can't keep you in there for more than a few hours." I looked out the windows behind her. It was getting dark.

"Why?" I asked, sitting up gradually.

"Remember the other sixteen test subjects?" I recalled her saying something about it.

"Yeah."

"That's why." She stood up and told me to follow her. I did as I was told. "It's really hard for me to explain why you're here. It'd be better if you found out on your own." She opened a door to a library. There were dusty old books everywhere. Obviously, this place was permanent.

"Whoa." I said, looking around. My old house could probably fit inside the entire library itself, it was so big.

"Shaun? Are you in here?" she asked aloud.

"Up here." A British voice said, about three aisles down. Lucy led the way through the stacks of books, and I followed. I saw a man teetering on a ladder, trying to reach for a book way out of his reach. This was _not_ going to end well. Of course, I didn't voice my opinion. "What do you need, I'm kind of busy…" he said, missing the book by about two inches. He swayed back on the ladder, waiting for it to swing back.

"When you're done trying to kill yourself, can you find some books that fill the basics in on Assassins?" Lucy asked, looking up at him with her hands on her hips.

"There's one book for that, love. The dictionary. I'd say somewhere between _assail_," he teetered forward. "And _assault_." He reached forward, and snatched the book. He quickly climbed down and sighed at us. I could see that he had glasses, and a very sarcastic face. He gave us each a quick smile and sat down at a table.

"Very nice, Shaun, but I'm serious, here. You know more about the Assassins than we do." Obviously, flattery worked on this guy.

"Oh, fine. I'll see what I can do." He stood up, leaving the book at the table, and walked to the back of the library. I looked back at Lucy but she was gone. I tried to see where Shaun had gone, but I couldn't tell which aisle he'd slipped down. He poked his head out of one three away. "Well, come on, then." I jogged over to where he was. He was back up on the ladder. "All of this shelf," he said, motioning to the seventh one up. "Is the basic history of Assassins—where they came from, Assassins through time, our mission statement—everything basic."

"And what's the rest of the library?" I asked, examining the spine of one book. _Tunguska: Volume Eight_.

"Everything in between."

* * *

An hour later, I had read through two of the largest books on the shelf, and I only had fifty three more to go. They were all arranged in volumes: History, Parts One Through Eight, People, Parts One Through Three, Famous Assassinations, Parts One Through Thirty-Seven—I was taking it one book at a time, depleting each section gradually. It would take me weeks to get all of this in my head. Shaun had come back in an hour into my JFK discovery. I was about to read his planned speech when he's come in.

"Well, you've seemed to make progress." He said. I rubbed my eyes.

"Is that sarcasm? Because I really can't tell." He set a cup of coffee down in front of me. I sipped it. Eew, decaf. I drank it anyways. I got about half of it down before I started, "I don't get it. But I do, you know? All of these things are screaming the same thing: you kill people, and I get it. You don't need to write poems and speeches and…everything else about it."

"You're not seeing the big picture, love. All you're looking at is the tiny details. Look, I'll write it out for you." He began to get a piece of paper out, and I caught his hand.

"I'm tired of word after word after word after word—why am I _here_?" I said. Shaun just looked at me. I sipped at the coffee

"I don't really know. And I doubt the answers are going to be in these books." He smacked the cover of my next book on the cover once and stood up. "You should go to sleep. We've got a room made up for you, if you like." Much better than falling asleep on a book. I stood up shakily, blood rushing to my head, impairing my vision. "Careful, now. I'll show you where your room is." He took me out into the hallway and into another room. My watch said it was three in the morning. I wondered what the real time was.

"Now just get some sleep. Someone will wake you up in a couple of hours, so don't worry about resetting your watch." I barely caught his words before I passed out on the bed.

I slept dreamlessly, thank God, and I woke up before the knock on my door. I noticed a pile of folded clothes on a chair by the bed. I got dressed and followed the person down the hall and into another room—the kitchen. This was probably the only room that matched the outer décor. The walls were a light honey yellow, and the counters were made of aged oak. There was a table in the corner, where Lucy, Shaun, Desmond, and another person, a woman with black hair, were sitting. "Ahh, you're awake." Shaun said, being the first to notice me. He kicked out a chair next to him and I took it, sitting down. The clothes felt cold and uncomfortable. "Have some breakfast." He said, spooning out eggs and toast.

"This is Rebecca. She's another one of the people working with me while someone's in the Animus." She nodded her head up at me once, a smile on her face.

"Hey. Yeah, I do translations and I search for any glitches in Baby." At my puzzled look, she explained that the Animus was her baby. "Built it myself." She said proudly.

"Yeah, with the help of Abstergo's memory core two years ago. Remember that, Rebecca?" Shaun said from next to me.

"That was a gift, and you know it!" she said, flicking a bit of egg at Shaun. Desmond met my eyes from across the table, and everything seemed to grow quieter for a second. Something warm yet cold, sharp yet numbing, raced through my veins. I broke eye contact with him and I started to eat, the world's soundtrack being Rebecca and Shaun's bickering, and Lucy's attempt to break it up. Desmond pushed around his food a little, before piling it onto the toast and eating it all in three huge bites.

"I'm going to go patrol." He said, no one noticing him get up but me. He put his plate in a sink, from what I could hear, and left.

Rebecca's voice seemed to slink back into my subconscious. "…So we're gonna try Baby out again today. Hopefully it'll be a better experience than the first time you were in it." I saw Lucy shove food in her mouth; most likely to keep from saying anything.

"But why me? I'm just a college student from Ohio." I said, looking down at my plate.

"Your ancestors passed their traits down to you. We couldn't use, say, your brother, or something, because the ancestors we're looking for have to be…well, similar, I guess." At the thought of my brothers, I started firing off questions.

"Where are my brothers? Where's my family? You say you don't know where they are, but I know you do." I said evenly, directing each question at a different person.

"It's true. We don't know where they are. They've seemed to disappear off the face of the planet." Lucy said, holding my gaze.

"You only counted my father and brothers missing. What about my mom? Where's she?" I asked.

"We…we're um…" Shaun stuttered, eventually giving up and sipping his coffee.

"Your mother is a Templar. She adopted you when you were very young, and she's been given orders to keep you under the radar from us. Otherwise, you would've been brought up very differently."

"My—what?" I asked. My mind whirled. My mother was one of the _bad guys_? I felt dizzy. I stood up. "No…you're lying." I said, stumbling back. I was _adopted_? Why didn't anyone tell me?

"Sit down, and we'll explain." Lucy said, on her feet as well. I shook my head and bolted out the door, making my way down the stairs and out the front door. I was having a hard time taking in breaths, but I kept running through the streets, eventually finding my way at Giotto's _Campanile_. I sat on a bench, running my fingers through my hair.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" a familiar voice asked, but more so demanded. I looked up. It was Desmond.

"I…" I tried to explain, but he had yanked me up by my arm, dragging me back down the street. I tried to get him to let go, but nothing was working. He pulled out his cell phone with one hand, speed-dialing someone I could only expect to be Lucy.

"Yeah, I've got her." He said gruffly, looking forward. Wow, I had run far. "Five." He said, hanging up. "Do you have any idea how easy it would be for a Templar agent to kidnap you from us?" he growled.

"How easy?" I asked, tripping along next to him.

"It was a rhetorical question." He suddenly pulled me into a shaded alley, and shoved me against a wall, his face now inches from mine. His hot breath smelled like breakfast and mint. "Listen to me. There are people out there who want you dead. Who want _me_ dead. If I'm caught with you, we're _both _dead. Understand? They will lock you in that machine for days, until you get headaches so bad you'll want to kill yourself, delusions so vivid you won't need the machine anymore. You'll start seeing things, believing they're real, until one day, you walk off a balcony and break your neck. This thing you were just pulled into, it's real. Now you either grow a pair or you don't but it doesn't mean you storm off like you just did there. Are you listening to me?" he said, his words blurring into one another. My eyes must've been the size of the moon because he backed off a half an inch or two. I was scared to breathe, to move, to do anything. I nodded a tiny little nod and he let me go, only to grasp my wrist with his hand roughly. "Come on." He said, pulling me out of the alley. A group of three people or so had been watching the exchange, but they went back to their own business once we walked out of their line of sight.

"How many Templars are in Florence?" I asked.

"About fifty." He said. "Most are in this district, but we control this district, and we take them out each day, wiping the slate clean." I looked down at the hand holding my arm. He had the bracer on, but it matched his shirt, a brown and white paisley one with short sleeves. I'd never seen anyone wear that kind of clothing, but Desmond made it look _good_. No! I couldn't be getting carried away! This guy almost _killed_ me!

Once we were back inside, Desmond took me back up to the Animus room. I kept my head down as Shaun and Rebecca started talking. "No, you may get this little…this little feeling in your head, and something's gonna say 'Database Entry'. You think about it, and you can read a letter, see additional info about something, or someone, in some cases." Shaun said.

"And if you come across any weird signs or just general trouble, I'll be right there to navigate you."

"Do I come with a map, too?" I asked sarcastically, sitting down on the Animus. Desmond loomed from a corner…why did he all of a sudden look so familiar?

"The map's a bit under construction right now, but we'll find a way to get it up in one of your sessions." Lucy said from my right.

"So what am I looking for?" I asked, laying back.

"You just need to live. Just _be_ her. And don't get killed." Desmond said, speaking up for once. I didn't have time to look at him before the needle was inserted and the world went white.

* * *

"Nora! Come see this!" Messer da Vinci said from downstairs. I sighed, setting the sketchbook down. I went down the stairs, my feet barely making any noise. "Nora!" he said, thinking I was still upstairs.

"I'm right here, Messer da Vinci." I said, making him jump.

"You're just as silent as Ezio!" he exclaimed. I hoped he wouldn't forget what he was to show me. "Look!" he pointed at the window. Sitting atop the sill was a bluebird, something not native to Venice.

"Wow…" I said, my hands itching for some charcoal.

"Don't disturb it!" Messer da Vinci warned. I could hear him quickly sketching a rough copy of it. I sat as close as I dared, and I stuck my hand out slowly. The bird looked at me sideways, and jumped on my fingers. "_Dio mio…_" he said, flipping a page in his workbook.

I fished out a piece of bread from my pocket and offered it to the bird. Its wide black eyes were curious. It picked at the piece, but then swallowed it whole. It began to chirp softly, a small song for me and my employer. "This is amazing…" he said, setting down the sketch paper. He leaned in close, his eyes almost as blue as the bird. He tilted his head this way and that, getting new angles memorized. "_Va bene_. You can let it free." He said.

I smiled. "And let waste a beauty? No, I say." I shifted the bird onto the sill again, distracting it with more bread. Messer da Vinci gave me a worried glance as I took one of the largest empty birdcages and brought it over to the window.

"Nora…?" he asked, concerned. I ignored him, taking the rest of the bread from the sill and popping it into the birdcage. The bottom was covered in parchment. I stuck out my finger again, and the bluebird jumped on. I set it on the perch in the cage, and left the door open.

"See? He can leave if he wants to." I said, going for more birdcages.

"What are you doing now?" Messer da Vinci inquired, leaning in as I took the walls off of the cages, piling them flat on a convenient empty table.

"Building a better house for _l'uccello azzurre_." I said, already beginning to build an outline of the _palazzo_ I had in mind.

"May I assist, _Signorina _Nora?" he asked.

"_Va bene._ I will need your help, anyways." Two hours passed and we had built the entire thing, with a large entrance for the bird. We had even built in a couple of baskets to hold bread and other things like that. There were so many different perches for the bird, inside and out. When we were done, the bluebird was sleeping in the smaller cage. I whistled low and the bird woke up.

(How is this relevant, Lucy? It's a memory about a _bird_.)

(Shut up, Shaun. You'll see.)

The bird was now safely in the cage. After a bit of exploring, it went back to sleep.

"Good job, Nora. You've done well. Now, are all of your tasks done?" Messer da Vinci asked.

"I just need to run to the market and…" he cut me off.

"I'll do it; you deserve a break. Go practice your drawings." He said, exiting the workshop. I sighed. The sun was already going down. In the distance, church bells were ringing, but I didn't know for what.

I sat on the table, watching the sun set next to the birdcage. I closed my eyes for a moment, sending a prayer up to my mother and father. _I hope you're safe_.

I was jolted out of my daze by three loud, sharp knocks on the door. Who was it? I stood up, going to open it up, but the person barged in, closing the door behind him. "Who are you?!" I asked, picking up a scalpel I'd noticed on the table I was sitting at.

"Shh, please!" the man said. I recognized who it was.

"Ezio?" I asked. I hadn't seen him in weeks! The last time he'd been down to Messer da Vinci's workshop was when he had these scrolls, and I was told to leave the room for awhile. "What are you doing here?" I inquired, going up to him. I noticed him holding his side. Why was he doing that?

"Nora, please, be quiet." He said, leaning his head against the door.

"Where did he go?" I heard guards on the other side of the door. They were in the streets, from what I could hear.

"I've lost sight of him." Another said.

"You! Did you see a man in white run through here?" a third guard asked.

"No! I didn't!" a frightened person answered. I looked up at Ezio. His hood was white. Wasn't it green last time—?

The guards walked away, frustrated. I was standing about two meters from Ezio. "Ezio? Are you alright?" I asked, noting the obvious.

"Yes. I just need…is Leonardo here?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Messer da Vinci just ran out to the market. Can I help you with anything?" I asked, wishing I hadn't.

"Can you treat wounds?" he asked. I felt my face blanch, but I nodded my head. "_Bene._" He said, walking down the stairs toward me. I backed up a couple of steps when I saw the glint of a Shianova, a butcher knife, and a bag full of knives on his belt.

"_Prego?_" I asked, pointing to the weaponry. "What is that?" I asked incredulously.

"Just ignore them." Ezio said, pulling off various pieces of clothing and equipment until he was half-naked in front of me.

His body was incredibly perfect, save for the scars that marred his torso. The wound was shallow, but incredibly bloody. "Hold on." I told him, rushing to get bandages. I'd always wondered why Messer da Vinci had them in the workshop; he never got hurt or anything. Now I seemed to understand. Pulling them down and bringing a cloth and bowl of water, I got to work. "How did this happen?" I asked, wiping away drying blood with the cloth.

"It's better that you don't know." He said, lying back on the table.

"_Non farlo!_" I exclaimed, making him sit up again. "You'll stretch the wound." I said, stopping the bleeding. I got the bandages out, and started wrapping it up. "You mystify me, Ezio." I said, as I tied off the bandage. "Only you."

"_Grazie,_ Nora." He said, slipping his robes and equipment back on. I nodded once and helped him tie off the sash around his middle. I had to duck under his cape in order to do so.

"Be more careful, next time. I don't want you coming round with a giant gash in your head." I warned, pushing him out the door.

"_Arrivederci_, Nora." He said, running off into the night.

(Okay, we're pulling you out now, just stay calm.)

* * *

The world went white again, and I was no longer Nora. I was the present-day me. With a rush of energy, I was put back into the world. Blinking my eyes against the overhead lights, I sat forward, rubbing my head. There was a slight pain behind my eyes, something I couldn't decipher. "Are you alright?" someone asked. I couldn't tell who's voice it was.

"I'm fine…" I said, getting up. I walked forward a bit, trying to find my way.

"Desmond, can you take her to her room?" someone asked. Suddenly a strong, leading hand led me down the hall and onto a bed.

"Just sleep. Don't dream…don't dream…" Desmond said, his voice drifting off into nothingness.

* * *

_Here's the complete story:_

_I post the first three chapters of this on ff dot net two days ago. Today, I open up my email, to see if I'd gotten any reviews. I did, from my beta reading it. I go and make sure it's real (paranoia--not good) and I go back out to the full AC story archives. I see that there is another story marked as "Anticipation", and I say, "hmm, how interesting. It must be a completely different story...until I look at the summary. The summary was the exact first line of the first chapter. I start to hear both alarms and the Twilight Zone theme go off in my head. I notice that there are three chapters uploaded, and the story is finished. I get really suspicious and I click the link._

_Sitting right there was the first chapter of my story, word for word, minus the Author's Notes and the Disclaimer. I frantically go through the other two chapters, and they were exactly the same. Someone had raped my art. My work. My soul. If you've read the poem on my profile, this is what I mean. Just because I write for you people doesn't mean that you have to go and steal it, making it look like it was your own. I was supremely pissed, and heartbroken, that some loser had copied my story. They were a loser because they didn't think to change the title, or use disclaimers. I came across a poem on deviantArt today, called "Plagiarism Is Murder". Go search it, it's by **green-beanie-girl**. I was in a rage all day, messaging my friends through IM and the phone, telling them what had happened. I immediately reported the non-author, as I called them, the first time I'd ever, EVER reported anyone, and I've seen a lot of things worth reporting._

_After a long while, justice was served. Their copy was deleted, and my heart was partially mended back together. There are still cracks in it, from where my soul's work was violated. I can barely take a deep breath without thinking about what had happened to me. It's rude, disrespectful, and WRONG. I hope you all understand, dear readers, the consequences of plagiarism, and what will happen to you if you give in to the horrible deed._

_And I may just be dramatic, but this is really, what it felt like. You may call me over-the-top, and exaggerated. But this is how it was for me. For an author. For a person with a soul._

_Review if you think plagiarism is a sin against fanfiction.  
_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey, I'm back with another chapter of this! Letting you know, this is just a thing for me to get over Writer's Block (BLEH) for Teardrop Bureau (YAY) so it might not be as "high-quality" as TDB. But, in the immortal words of Mr. Harmon, my guitar teacher, "No qualifications."_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed. I PWN3D Assassins Creed.**

* * *

When I was younger, I wanted to be a singer, like Celine Dion or Britney Spears. I wanted to play for thousands of people every night, singing my heart out until I died. Music was my passion. I studied theory, I took piano classes, I started playing guitar—then things began to go downhill. Bands like Nirvana and Green Day came into view, and I went into that phase where I didn't just want to sing for people—I wanted to rock their worlds. I had picked up guitar when I was twelve, and I'd just heard the Nevermind album. First song I ever taught myself: Smells Like Teen Spirit. Every once in a while, old Nirvana tunes would come on, and I would smile to myself and dance and sing on the inside. I couldn't let the outside world know that I liked Nirvana. Image was a hard thing to uphold, especially in my hometown.

I didn't follow Desmond's advice when he had said not to dream. Unfortunately for him, it was a good dream.

_I'm listening to bird calls. I'm memorizing them, so I could impress Messer da Vinci. I'm about nine or ten. I'm sitting in my courtyard, with my eyes closed. The sun warmed me all over, despite the fact that Christmas was next week._

_There. Another pigeon. There's too many in this city. I opened my eyes, trying to seek out the bird. I stood up, holding a fistful of my dress in each hand, and I walked around. I heard another familiar sound—doves. There were a lot of those in Venice as well. I found the nest atop the olive vine in the southern corner. I admired the eggs, as well as the mother. She was sitting perfectly atop the pile of eggs, guarding them. She gave me a wry look before going back to cleaning her feathers. I smiled and got down. "Nora!" my mother called. "Nora, where are you?"_

"_I'm here!" I said, running toward her voice. I found her in the doorway to _la cucina_, hands on her hips like always. I dusted myself off, trying to become presentable._

"_You have feathers in your hair. It's not right to disturb the doves like that." She scolded me, ushering me inside._

"_I'm not bothering them, I'm watching them. And I didn't mean to if I did." I said, covering all my bases. I made an annoyed face as she pulled the feathers out of my hair._

"_Nora, Nora, Nora. What am I going to do with you?" she said, twirling me around. "There's someone I'd like you to meet." She ushered me into the foyer, where a family stood patiently._

_There were six of them—a mother holding a toddler, a father, and two boys, looking to be about sixteen and twelve. "These are the Maltinos. Mario, here, is good friends with your _padre_." My mother said._

_I bowed once, saying "_Piacere di conoscerla,"_ before rising. The father, who I expected to be Mario, bowed back, with a smile._

"_To you as well, Nora. This is my wife, Catalina, my daughter, Bella, and my sons, Giovanni, Isaac, and _il bambino_ Ludrigo." He said, pointing them out as they went along._

_To Bella, I said, "Would you like to play with me?" and she smiled, looking to her father for approval. He nodded and we ran off. Once we were in the garden, I asked, "Do you live in _Venezia_?"_

"_No. I live in _Firenze_. __We're only visiting while on holiday. Father works at the banks, and he gave everyone a break! Isn't that wonderful?" she asked._

"_That's very nice of him." I said, admiring her dress. "I love your dress." I said._

"_Oh yes, _mi madre_ made it for me for my birthday. Does your mother make dresses for you?"_

_I didn't get the chance to answer before two boys jumped out, roaring at us. Bella screamed and ran back to her mother, while I stayed put, knowing there was nothing to be scared of. I blinked at them as they slapped hands with each other. "Aren't you scared, _piccolina_?" they asked, staring at me with the same pair of dark brown eyes. Isaac started circling around me and I began to get nervous._

"_I'm never scared." I said, puffing my chest out._

"Nessun problema._ That will change." Giovanni said, laughing._

"_Boys! Stop harassing poor Nora." I heard their father speak from an upstairs window._

"Si, padre_." They said in unison._

_Isaac leaned toward me. "This is not over yet, _piccolina_." I smirked and walked into my house._

I woke up like I did last time—gradually. It took me awhile to register the previous day's events before I got up and got dressed—again, clothes had been laid out for me. I got dressed before the knock on my door. I opened it, and saw no one in front of the door. It must've been six in the morning. I saw a foot slip around a corner. Intrigued, I followed the foot.

Turning the corner, I was mashed up against the wall by none other than Desmond. "Are we always going to meet like this?" I asked.

"If you don't follow instructions, we will." Okay, I wasn't expecting an answer, but…

"I'm confused—what do you mean?"

"I said, 'don't dream' and what did you do?" the answer was "dream" but I didn't know how he knew this.

"What are you _talking_ about?" I said, trying to push him off of me.

"Oh please. I could hear you speaking Italian all the way from my room last night." I was speaking _Italian_ in my _sleep_?

"Why do you care anyways?" I asked, not looking at him directly.

"I don't. It's just annoying when you're trying to sleep and you're talking about dresses and Christmas. I didn't even know you _spoke_ Italian." He said the last part more under his breath.

"Look, dude. I don't know what's going on, but you'd better get the hell off of me before I—"

"Before you what?" he said, cutting me off with a smirk. "You have absolutely nothing to use against me."

"I have Lucy. And everyone else in this building. I'd bet they'd just _love_ to hear how you _dropped me_ on the _sidewalk_. I can always just run out and reveal this whole thing to the other guys and have everyone die and—"

"That's enough." He said, backing off. "You've gone too far. You can play with your own life, but when you start to drag down innocent men and women with you—"

"I'd hardly call it _innocent_, Mister." I said, crossing my arms and standing up straighter. I suddenly got an image of Ezio Auditore in my mind. My eyes widened. "Hold on a second—are you…are you—?"

"Not me. Wrong guy." He said, walking away. I followed him around a corner, but he was gone. I sighed and retraced my steps to the kitchen.

"Short breakfast, big day." Rebecca said. "Hardly the combination I was hoping for." She said, carrying a steaming cup of coffee out of the room, her voice muffled by a half-eaten croissant.

"Just take one of whatever. We've gotta get started early." Lucy said, passing me. Only Shaun and I were left in the kitchen. He was sipping a cup of tea—he didn't look to be the coffee type.

"I'd recommend not eating the muffins. Lucy made them." He said, not looking up from his tea. "Not those, either. They'll give you food poisoning." I took my hand back from the bagels and turned around.

"Then why are they here?" I asked. He didn't answer. "God, what _is_ there to eat?" I asked myself. Seeing as Rebecca had one, I took a croissant from the table, and poured myself a cup of coffee. The odd combination left me coughing at first, but I got used to it.

"Well then. All finished?" he asked when I had eaten the last bit of pastry. I nodded and he walked out of the room. "We're not supposed to leave you alone with sharp objects, or so I've heard." He said sarcastically.

"Where'd you hear that? Wikipedia?" I asked, making us both laugh.

"Your file said you were studying Renaissance History." He said. I had a _file_?

"Was going to after the holidays." Oh crap, it was winter vacation. Christmas was less than a week away! I tried to blink the thought out of my mind before he noticed. "But I've always been a history nerd." I admitted, as we walked up a flight of stairs to get onto the second floor.

"Well that's one thing we've got in common." On an invisible piece of paper, he 'checked off': "Con: drinks coffee." I smirked. "Pro: history buff. Con: won't even study her own nation's history." He said. I shoved him in the arm once.

"That's none of your business. And besides, if you haven't noticed, our country has been quite the asshole for the last hundred years or so." I pointed out.

"True, true." He said as we walked in. I shot a look at Desmond, who was again, standing in a corner, looming.

"Well. Just take a seat, and we'll get started." Rebecca said from the computer hooked into the Animus. I sat down and let her stick the needle in me. I exhaled deeply as my eyes drooped shut.

The world was white, full of squares, yet again.

(Something's up with the databases. It'll be safer just to leave them out for now.) Shaun.

(I can't seem to get a solid memory locked on.) Rebecca.

(Didn't you say yesterday's was synchronized?) Lucy.

"What's going on?" I asked aloud, the voices around me making me dizzy.

(Just hang in there. We're gonna try to find a secure place to start from.) Rebecca again. (It'll be a few seconds.)

I began to panic. What if I was locked in this white room forever? My family…I could never find them. I could never see them again. I started hyperventilating in my mind.

(Keep calm.) It was Desmond's voice. Why was Desmond working on the Animus? What was he doing? What was going on? What was going on? (We'll have you back in a couple of seconds.)

I tried to focus on something, but the scene around me kept changing. The squares became birds became water became people…I felt dizzy. I put a hand on my head. The throbbing behind my eyes was getting worse. Stay calm, stay calm. I remembered a song my mother would sing me so I would sleep.

_The lion it waits in its den at night_

_Waiting for the rising light_

_It can't go out, but save for day_

_After someone's taken the dark away_

_The world has two sides: the strong and the meek_

_Although some would say they're the king and the weak_

_But we all need to be both some day_

_After someone's taken the light away._

It was a song about accepting that you're above others as well as below them. I always pictured the lion hiding in his den with a nightlight, his mother singing him this song as well. I don't know why I remembered it just then, but I started to remember other verses.

(We're almost done up here. Any second now.)

_The snake, it waits, in the tall, tall grass_

_Waiting to make this meal be your last_

_Under the cover of the dim moonlight_

_Is the chosen area for the snake to strike_

_Although we wait for our time to come_

_Anticipation is never outgrown._

And it ended there. It was a sonnet, if I remember correctly. Years later, I'd discovered it to be a bit too morbid for my taste.

(Okay, here we go.)

* * *

The world around began to build itself up, taking shapes of people and buildings and animals. I looked around me. I was in the market. I was buying a certain set of brushes for Messer da Vinci, and food. I hadn't bought anything yet, which was good, because my hands were empty.

I saw a white hood walk past me while I was trying to decide over two sets of brushes. Ezio? I turned around curiously. I left the stall, following him. I pushed past two people in my way, neither of them knowing I was there. Eventually, Ezio had turned a corner. I heard a rip of paper and I looked down at my feet as I walked by. There was a poster that said _Morti di Vivo_, with a picture of a man in a white hood. I couldn't stop to read the rest of the information on the poster without losing Ezio, so I went on. I was confused. What was going on?

All of a sudden, two guards popped out in front of me, also trailing Ezio. Was it Follow Ezio Day or something? Definitely not. The guards began to walk faster, gaining on him. I had to keep up at a jog. They were about three meters away before I saw one of them raise their dagger in the air, ready to strike. They were going to kill him!

I then did one of the stupidest things in my life. "_Occhio, _Ezio!" I screamed. I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand. He whirled around, looking directly at me with those incredible brown eyes. The guards roared, one of them turning back to me.

"RUN!" he shouted, throwing the first guard to the ground, and making his way over to me. I seemed to shrink into nonexistence because of the look on the guard's face. "I said RUN!" he shouted, trying to get past the crowd. I stumbled backwards on a rock and fell, crying out in surprise. I started scrambling backwards, getting up a second too late.

Something slashed against my left cheek, and I felt blood running down my neck and face. I held my hand to it and finally started running. I pushed through the crowd the best I could with one hand, eventually making it to the eastern exit of San Trovaso Square. A hand gripped mine, and I tried to break free of it. It could've been another guard—or worse.

But it wasn't a guard. It was Ezio. He had a frantic look upon his face, one that was worried and panicked at the same time. "Up." He said, pointing to a ladder leaning against a wall. I obliged, climbing up it at lightning speed. I could still hear shouts of guards. "Can you run?" he asked. I started to nod my head, but I quickly shook it. Unfortunately, Ezio was already pulling me along. "_Presto!_" he said, trying to get me to hurry up. I was feeling dizzy with the amount of blood I had all over me. Across the rooftops, we ran, me stumbling behind him ever few steps. My breath came in short gasps. I'd never run that much in my life. And I was still running. Suddenly he stopped.

"Why are we stopping?" I gasped, trying to catch my breath. I looked ahead of us. There was a large gap between two buildings, separating the Dorsoduro and San Polo _Distretti._ I shook my head. "No, Ezio. I'll just fall. I'm really not good luck at these sort of—!" I gave a small yelp of surprise as I was lifted up in the air, and slung over Ezio's shoulder. I grasped for any handhold I had. Ezio backed up a couple of steps. I could feel his arms wrapped around my legs. "Please, no, _prego._ I'm not good luck!" I tried to convince him.

But to no avail. I could feel the muscles in his shoulders become taught, coiled. I clenched my fists, closing my eyes against the receding rooftops.

Suddenly, we were airborne. I was flying. I opened my eyes for a split second, trying to breathe. Was it just my frightened state, or did the ocean look prettier from up here? All too soon, Ezio had landed, setting me back on my feet. I held my hand back to my face as we began to run again. "_Malledetto Venezia_." He swore, looking ahead. "It will be easier if I carry you." He said, and I understood. The buildings were all spread apart by large gaps.

"_Fa' pure!"_ I said, looking back at the archers beginning to race after us. Already, a few were nocking arrows. I was scooped up into Ezio's arms. I swung my right arm around his neck.

"Hold on." He said, beginning to pick up speed. I closed my eyes tight, feeling my stomach clench every time he would jump. _This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy…_I thought.

"We're here. The guards are gone." He said, setting me down. Only a few minutes had passed. Where had he learned to _do _those things?

"Why were the guards trying to kill you?" I asked, after we were on the ground. We were walking to Messer da Vinci's workshop, again, but it was me who needed medical attention this time.

"My name. My job. My family." He said.

"What are they?" I asked.

"It's better that we go inside." He said, pushing me forward with one hand behind my back. His head swiveled from side to side, trying to see if anyone had seen us. He closed the door and motioned for me to sit on a nearby couch. I did and he started to bring down bandages and needles and strings. Was it that bad? I asked, looking down at the half of my dress that was ruined because of the blood. I could hear him in the kitchen, getting water and most likely a cloth.

"So tell me your name. If you're going to tell me anything at all." I said, as he walked back in.

"Ezio Auditore." He said, looking down. I remember there being a trial over five years ago, killing all of the Auditore men. Apparently, there was more than meets the eye.

"The poster you ripped down, was that you?" the 'killer of life'. He nodded once. I remember there being a ten-thousand florin advantage to anyone who turned him in. Dipping the cloth in the bowl, he began to dab at the blood drying on my face. I tried not to move. He was at a plus now. I couldn't ask any questions.

"I track down the men who betrayed my family, and I avenge the deaths of my father and brothers with their own." He said, concentrating. He dipped the cloth in the bowl again, wringing out the blood-soaked water. "It's a choice I made. It's a choice I will abide by for the rest of my life." He said, then added, "I'm sorry to have pulled you into this. This is my fault."

"You would've died if I didn't warn you." I insisted. He laughed once.

"Yes. I think that's safe to say. _Grazie_ for that, by the way." He laughed a couple more seconds, and relapsed into silence. "Do you know where Leonardo is? I wouldn't want to ruin your face with my untrained hand."

"I…I don't know. He should be here." I said, looking around, as if he'd jump out of nowhere.

"I'll go look for him. Don't go anywhere." He said, getting up. He disappeared up the stairs, and I could hear him walking around on the upper floor. I sighed, looking around for something to catch my attention.

Fortunately, Ezio had found him, asleep in his room. He'd been working on that bat thing for much too long. My old teacher walked down the stairs groggily, until he saw my face. "Nora! What happened?" he asked, rushing over.

"I had to save Ezio from a bunch of guards, and I got the worst of it." I said, stretching the truth to lighten the mood. I saw Ezio smirk from under his hood.

"This is a pretty nasty gash. It will take some time to heal. Ah, I see you already got the medical things out." He said, beginning to work. He wiped off some blood that Ezio had missed, his hands much more gentle. Ezio looked on in a corner. I met his eyes for a second, and then he looked away.

"I have some things to addend to." Ezio said, beginning to walk out the door.

"Good luck, my friend." Messer da Vinci said, turning his head to watch him go.

"Ezio…" I said, making him stop. "…thank you." He nodded, and left.

(Okay, that's enough for now. We'll put you in after lunch.)

I felt the familiar surge of energy before I was returned back to reality.

* * *

_Go on to the next chapter..._


	6. Chapter 6

_So...next chapter! Get on with it!_

**Disclaimer: These are getting really lame to write--hold on. (I DON'T OWN ASSASSIN'S CREED)--So...I'm welcoming ideas for funny disclaimers. Lansing, you're such a help.**

* * *

I got out of the Animus slowly, trying to blot out the throbbing behind my eyes. I reached up to my face. No scar. It had felt so real…I let out a sharp breath of realization. It was not me who was living in Venice. It was Nora. Nora, who was dead and gone. Along with Ezio. I looked around me. There was Lucy, sitting at her desk, eating a thin-crust pizza. She looked engrossed in what was on the screen. Rebecca was also eating a slice of pizza, whereas Shaun was sipping his tea thoughtfully in a corner, reading a book in Italian or Spanish. Desmond was nowhere to be seen. I asked Rebecca where the pizza was and she said, "Kitchen." Shaun closed his book and started walking out of the room. Anyone just tuning in would've thought I was following him out. He walked into the kitchen before I did.

"Catch." He said, throwing me a slice. It had artichokes, ham, mushrooms, tomatoes, and mozzarella cheese on it.

"What do you call this?" I asked, taking a cautious bite. It was good.

"_Pizza quattro stagioni_." He replied, sipping his tea still. The mixture of his British accent and the Italian language were an odd pair, but interesting to hear.

"Well then. It's good." I said.

"Save any for me?" someone asked from the doorway. It was Desmond's voice. I looked back towards where the voice came from, but there was no one there.

"Did you hear that?" I asked Shaun. He looked over my shoulder.

"Hear what?" he asked, interested.

"…nothing." I said. "Probably just someone walking around." I said.

"There's no one in the compound besides us, love. And the other girls are too engrossed in their work to walk around. This is a lunch break. They don't understand the term 'break'. They hear 'lunch', so they do what they do best: multitask." He chuckled, pouring another cup of tea.

"And Desmond?" I asked carefully.

"He tends to…wander. I wonder if the Bleeding Effect is still…no, it can't be." He said, trailing off, and staring mid-distance.

"So why are you here? You don't initially strike me as an _assassin_." I said, studying him as he carefully took a sip at his cup.

"Well, I was always interested in the odd, the unexplainable." He said, pausing for effect.

"Like UFOs and Bigfoot?" I asked.

"A little deeper than your household Banshee and Jersey Devil." He said, smiling. "I was just prone to get into things that weren't supposed to be messed with. My biggest sort of goal was to find out what Abstergo was really all about. I wrote across the world, spreading word and collaborating. That's how I met Rebecca, see. She told me to, more or less, back off. I thought she was mad and what did I do? I dug even deeper, joining a newspaper for these sorts of things. I'm not going to tell you the name." He laughed when my face lit up with interest. "That's something you'd have to find out yourself. Anyways, I'd already started corresponding with Rebecca, and that's how I caught wind of the Assassins. Unfortunately, the Templars got to me first." My eyes widened, and I took another piece of pizza. "There was a miniature war going on in my apartment. Guns were firing, blood was everywhere; I'd managed to get a hold of a gun, and I killed two people that night. There was no going back then, was there?" he was quiet for a couple of moments.

"But I was brought in here, to work out databases for Miles. I'd known Lucy through the grapevine, heard she'd been working in Abstergo. Then, one day, Rebecca and I are sitting here, minding our own business, when she calls and says she's on her way to the compound, in Tuscany. By then, Rebecca and I were already packing up the truck. A couple hours pass and here comes Lucy, carrying this oddball named Desmond Miles. Never liked the guy at all. Even after his time in the Animus, even after helping us escape, even after helping us move in. There's something weird about that guy, I tell you." He was quiet for a second, deep in thought. "Just out of curiosity, what did you think an assassin was like?" his eyes squinted in interest from behind his glasses. I swallowed my pizza.

"Well, to be honest, something a little bit like Desmond. But like, all dressed in black, and carrying a sniper rifle around." I laughed.

"You watch too many films, I'm afraid." He said, laughing a bit. I smiled, sitting back on the counter. "Well, I think it's time we've gone back now. They'll be waiting for us." I nodded once, and followed him out. We walked down the hall to the Animus room, where, as expected, Lucy and Rebecca were still engrossed in their work. Desmond was still nowhere to be seen. Shaun took up post at his desk, opening his book to the page it was on.

"Well, just sit back in the Animus, I guess." Rebecca said. I nodded and did as she said.

Much quicker, this time, I was pulled into Italy.

(We've fast forwarded the memories of Nora by a couple of years.) Shaun said in my faraway mind. (There's not much of a difference in Venice, with the exception that Nora's sold some art under an assumed name, and Leonardo da Vinci's been doing well. I can see here that he moves to Monteriggioni not a few weeks after this memory…you might want to check that out.) His voice clicked out and I was Nora.

* * *

I was walking through the streets alone, again. The scar on my face had nearly healed, thanks to Messer da Vinci and time. Proud of the slight weight of my coin purse, I watched warily for pickpockets and thieves. I bought myself a set of red chalk and charcoal, and an interesting knife that had seemed to be calling to me. The merchant at the _fabbro_ had looked at me strangely, wrapping the blade in a scrap of leather. I nodded to him and begun my walk back to the workshop.

Of course, it was always Ezio. About three seconds before I was going to actually reach the workshop, I was shoved forward by what seemed to be a brick wall. I felt the air leave my lungs, and I coughed once when I recovered. I turned around, ready to give that _bastardo_ a piece of my mind. Unfortunately, the cape and hood told all. I was pushed back against the wall, stuck between Ezio and brick, which gave a literal meaning to 'between a rock and a hard place'. I tried to breathe in, but I was just pushed by Ezio even more. I wasn't even paying attention to what he was doing. I managed to slip past him, towards the door. Unfortunately, it was locked. Oh no! I knocked loudly on the carved wood. "Messer da Vinci! Open the door!!" I yelled, sparing a glance back at Ezio. He had half of an arrow embedded in his shoulder, blood drenching his then-teal robes, and a nasty face of determination. I almost didn't recognize him. He rushed forward, and I saw the guards he was facing. He looked feral, and graceful at the same time.

I looked around at the other guards. There were four of them. Ezio was fighting off three, but one lurked to the outside ring, creeping as slyly as a snake around, until he had successfully made his way to the back of Ezio, the only place unguarded. I only reacted, pulling the knife out of its makeshift sheath and sticking it in the guard's back. I recoiled instantly, like the knife had burned me. The guard seemed to reach behind him for the knife, as if pulling it out would make his fate change. Ezio turned around, finished with the other guards. His eyes met mine, and I felt my breath catch.

* * *

The inner me started to hyperventilate. What had I done? I felt my hands start to shake and turn cold. Blood pounded in my real ears, and I felt my heart rate escalate considerably. Suddenly everything turned white and I was the real me, in a sense.

(Her heart rate is _way _too high. Should we pull her out?) Rebecca's voice chimed. I sat down in the loading room. I tried to breathe, to speak, to do anything, but my breath was coming in short gasps.

(Something's wrong. This shouldn't be happening. Not twice in a day.) Lucy's worried tone didn't help.

(It doesn't look like a glitch…it must be her.) Rebecca answered. There were a series of things clattering to the ground outside by the sound of what happened next.

(Rebecca, pull her out! I think she's having a panic attack!) Someone's voice boomed around me. I started coughing violently, my arms flailing. There was a great _whoosh _of sound before I found myself on the ground, blobs all around me. I tried to breathe, but I was a fish out of water. There was no more air. No more vision. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and go home. The edges of my vision were turning black and red. I felt my feet getting cold. My heart was pounding wildly in my chest. Muffled shouts and worried tones were exchanged above me, but I couldn't comprehend them. I coughed, half-heartedly. I could hear my heartbeat slow down, and something warm was holding my hand, though my hand felt detached from my body.

What had I done?

"Breathe, damn it!" The voice broke through my field of misty thought. The hand left mine and I felt cold and alone, though I was surrounded by a group of people. I coughed violently, sucking air into my lungs through jagged breaths. I heard someone crying nearby. I realized it was me. I couldn't stifle my sobs. I pulled my hands up to my face, unable to bear it.

_I had killed a man._

"Shh. Shh, it's fine. You're okay. I'll take her to her room." The voice said, scooping me up. I knew the voice, but I was too busy crying my eyes out in shame to realize it. I heard footsteps through my whimpers. I was being carried. "You're fine." The person whispered. "It didn't happen. It wasn't you." The voice went on, setting me on something soft. They gently took my hands away from my face.

_I had killed a man._

My face was wet with tears, making my skin dry out some. I still felt tears rolling across the bridge of my nose and down my cheek and into the sheets of the bed. A warm hand enveloped the side of my face free, the thumb stroking back my hair. I was racked with silent sobs, my entire body trembling and shaking. "Is she alright?" Lucy's voice said from the door. She was worried.

"She's fine. She shouldn't have gotten the break." The person said, distantly. I felt like I was a very small child in an adult's world, wondering what people were talking about.

"Desmond, we need to be sure nothing happens to her." Desmond…?

"I understand that. There might be something wrong with the machine." Desmond said, still playing with my hair. I'd calmed down enough to focus on the conversation. My face felt too tight on my skull. "There was a glitch this morning, and Rebecca couldn't find a better starting point for her. Lucy, she's not ready for this. You told me to protect her. That's what I'm doing." There was a long, and dragged out silence. They must've thought I'd fallen asleep. I regulated my breathing evenly, and concentrated.

"Desmond, I know what I told you. Our first priority is to keep her safe. That was our first priority with you. You know that." Lucy said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "But we need to get this research done. If we can't find the memory we need, we may not win this war." Lucy was quiet for awhile. I could feel her eyes on me.

"I don't want to see anybody get hurt. I'm trying to get her to know what's ahead of her, and it's not helping."

"You mean by dropping her on sidewalks and pushing her against walls?" Lucy said sarcastically. "Yeah, your stealth needs working on. Sometimes, Desmond, I can't seem to remember that guy in the bar." She sighed.

"You're already giving up on her? It was your idea we bring her in!" he said as she got up. His hand left my face, making it colder. He turned and stood up.

"There is no cure for the Bleeding Effect, Desmond." She said, beginning to exit.

"Lucy, she's not ready to go back in. You saw what that memory did to her. I don't want to see it happen again." Lucy sighed and walked out, not giving an answer.

"What's the Bleeding Effect?" I whispered hoarsely.

"It's nothing." He said. He kneeled down next to me, his hand going back to my face. Only this time, it felt uncomfortable, strange.

"Lucy and Shaun talk about it…like it's a disease." I said. "Do you have it?" I asked.

"Not anymore." He said.

"Will I get it?" he was quiet too long for comfort. _Yes._ The silence said. "Can it kill me?"

"Nothing is true." He said, the words sounding familiar. They distracted me from my question, the answer overwhelming me.

"Am I allowed to go back in the Animus, or do I need to stay out of it for a while?"

"Everything is permitted." He said in an odd, distracted tone. The answer before seemed as strange as this one. They went together.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Nothing. _Dormire._" He said. I knew this word. Sleep.

And I did.

* * *

_Sooooo...this wonderful friend in my head wrote me some limericks about AC. They made me laugh at my own genius._

_Ezio was the name of a man,_

_He kept a hidden blade on his hand._

_He killed lots of archers,_

_He stabbed many marchers,_

_And was the hottest man in the land._

_An Assassin, named Altair._

_I'll speak, so lend me your ear._

_He uses his swords_

_In the crowd, on a horse_

_So, citizens, there's nothing to fear. (NOT)_

_A bartender--Desmond Miles._

_Captured by Abstergo--for files._

_Locked away in his head_

_He had to sit on a bed_

_Reliving lives--with style._

_A girl, her name was Lucy._

_She's an Assassin, you see?_

_When she planned the escape,_

_New things took shape._

_In Assassin's Creed Two, see!_

_Hahaha review  
_


	7. Chapter 7

_I'm posting quadruply._

**Disclaimer: Don't own, Don't sue.**

* * *

A dreamless night. What a wonderful gift. Sent by whom? By God? By Desmond? He had simply told me to sleep and I had, not seconds later. He hadn't told me not to dream, and I was surprised. That memory thing from the day before had shaken me. I felt sick as I woke up. My watch told me it was three in the morning. What? Someone had changed it? Either that or it was three in the morning in Ohio. I calculated the difference in hours in my head. Was it…a nineteen hour difference? Or five hours, in the other direction? I stood up, feeling gloomy. The face of the guard, the shock of the knife in my hands. I ran my hand over my face. No, this couldn't be happening. I wasn't going to remember this. It wasn't my fault. I was not my past. I was not my ancestors. I was restless in my thinking now, so I left the room. There were no clothes on the chair yet. I walked over to the Animus room, expecting Rebecca, Lucy, and Shaun to be waiting, with the Animus all fixed and ready to go. Unfortunately, only Shaun was in the room, tinkering away at his computer. "I could hear you walking around in the other room." He said. I wasn't sure if he had actually spoken. He stopped what he was doing and looked around at me. His glasses glinted in the light of the computer. "Come on over." He said, waving his hand.

"Why are you up?" I asked once I'd sat myself down in a nearby stool he'd pulled up for me.

"I'm always up, love. Doing field support for the people out there, doing the real work. By day I'm a historian. By night, I'm a little indicator telling people that their encryption is done." He smiled slightly, though there was no reason to smile at all. He started typing away, the words on the screen popping up faster than I'd ever thought possible.

"Don't you ever sleep?" I asked, amazed by the speed his fingers flew across the keyboard. He bit his bottom lip slightly, subtly.

"Only when it's necessary." He answered, continuing his work. I hoped I wasn't a huge annoyance for him.

"How long ago did Desmond stop using the Animus?" I asked. Shaun hit the enter key and the screen disappeared, revealing a plain white desktop on two screens. His book was nearly finished, by the ratio of left to right pages. He swiveled around in his stool, his knees propped up on the second rung.

"About a year ago. He said he was finished with all he'd needed to know. All he had to do was refine his knowledge. He spends half the time in the library nowadays, and half the time either lounging about or doing just the opposite." I asked with my eyes. "He runs a lot. Likes to jump off of tall structures. Climb buildings." He shrugged, leaning back some.

"Sounds like he's got too much on his mind." I said.

"That's for sure. I know you haven't read up on it yet, but the Animus can have some serious side effects in the long run." He said, lowering his voice, raising his eyebrows, and leaning closer to me.

"The Bleeding Effect, you mean?"

"Precisely. The subject, if left to prolonged exposures inside the Animus, would gradually and eventually lose grip of reality. Start seeing things, hearing things." I thought about this morning. Was that what he was talking about? "Desmond had taken a pretty nasty turn two years ago. Passed out right in the middle of the hallway. Scared the bejeezus out of Lucy, though she won't ever care to admit it." Of course.

"How long is…prolonged?" I asked, looking over at the Animus, draped in shadow among the various blobs I knew to be desks, computers, and bookshelves.

"Oh, don't worry. The best actual evidence we have is this crazy bloke named Subject 16. He was an assassin, captured by Abstergo, and he had a _multitude_ of different ancestors. From every era—the Civil War, the time of the Roman Forums, World War Two, the Renaissance. He even had ancestors in Ancient Africa running around. All of them Assassins by blood. Well, like I said, this guy was captured, and put in the Animus. Abstergo's Animus. And, well, the fifteen subjects before him had gone insane or suffered from severe brain hemorrhaging. They just couldn't explain it. So Subject 16 gets caught, and they keep him in there for _days_ on end. He was there for about three or four months, if I'm correct. Lucy was working as a double agent there, getting in where it hurts. But," he sighed. "He slit a vein and covered the walls in his blood. Some poor girl named Leila as well." His lips stretched out, giving me the impression that he was yawning. "But you'll be fine. We're taking you slower than even Desmond did."

"What happens when that time…builds up?" I asked. "How many hours, do you think, total, did Subject 16 spend in Abstergo's Animus?"

"I don't know, a thousand, if my math's a little off." He said. "But we're trying to find something through you." A vague nagging feeling felt like I was being watched. "Something only you have. And that should take up…less than a week or so, I guess. And that's maybe less than seven percent of what 16 had." He turned to a page that had popped up on his desktop. "You'll be fine." He said.

Although Shaun's words of support did little, I still felt somewhat safer when I was around him. I watched him work quietly for hours, typing away on his keyboard. The sun began to go up, and I remembered my watch. "You didn't happen to reset my watch, did you?" I asked slyly.

"Nope. I've got mine right here. Must've been Rebecca or Lucy." His silence said, _Maybe even Desmond._

"Huh. Is it right?" I showed him the face of the watch, and he looked back at his own.

"Yep. It's all good." He said. He continued with his work. A few minutes later, he hit the enter key and the window closed again.

"How many of these things pop up during the night?" I asked after awhile of boring silence.

"At least twenty or thirty. But one time I remember getting like, three hundred fifty at one point. All the other servers were down for the encryptionists. So, they all went to me. I swear, the sleepiest night of my life." Again, I got that feeling that something was watching me. I turned around, eventually standing up. "You going back to bed, then?" he asked.

"No. I'm just…looking." I said, trying to figure out what had been staring at me. But suddenly I was alone again with Shaun. I shook it off as paranoia.

"Say, have you ever unencrypted a file before?" he asked once I sat down. "It's not that hard, unless you don't have a lot of time on your hands."

"I've hacked into security websites, but they always kick me out before I get to see anything interesting." I said, remembering Creed Securities.

"What site?" he asked, opening up a web search.

"Creed Securities." I said. He closed the search window and started laughing. "What's wrong?"

"Love, we _are_ Creed Securities. It's just an alias, a cover-up. No wonder you didn't find anything. I designed the site." He laughed, and I was amazed. They had been following me around the internet?

"Dude, you made me afraid to even get on the computer! You were following me around?" I said.

"It's called profiling. Just in case." He said, turning to two open encryption pages at the same time. "Whoa, that's never happened before." He said, clicking on the smallest one first.

"So what is encryption?" I asked, watching him work away at the puzzle.

"Well, it differs from every file. See this one? It's a redaction. It's like a short story mystery case." He said, enlarging the screen. From what I could see, it was a redacted file from the INTERPOL database. "You see, they give us some clues," he highlighted the unredacted keywords. It looked to be something about a meeting in New York. "Now, we have to be careful about this part." He said, clicking a button that said 'allow redaction'. "So a screen pops up, saying that we're not authorized, and then we just slip around security, and into the wonderful world of binary." Green zeroes and ones filled the page, and I had a hard time keeping up with them. Shaun's keyboard clicked away under his fingers.

"What are you typing?" I asked.

"The translation of the binary code. What I type goes through this page, and into the redacted file, and…" he clicked the enter key. The green characters disappeared and I saw a glimpse of a completed letter before the page disappeared. He then turned to the larger file. "Ahh, this one's easy. It's just big." He said, observing it by scrolling down a bit. Another screen popped up, a considerably smaller one. It wasn't an encryption file, by the looks of it. It was a message saying 'we need that file in three minutes'. Shaun set to work, telling me he'd explain it when he was done. A minute or so later, he was finished. "Okay, that was exhilarating." He laughed airily. "Well, you have to read up on your history, and you have to know more than…say, four or five languages fluently, and you have to know both Morse code and binary. Also gotta know loads of different ciphers and codes. People tend to throw in Bible verses as well, that's why I've got this handy." He slapped a book that was arms-length away from him. The gold printing said it was the Holy Bible. "Encryption is for the people that know things that nobody else knows." He said.

"So, what was that right there?" I asked.

"Reverse Cesarean Cipher. Tricky little bugger. Come on, I'll get you a book on common codes and ciphers." He said, standing up after typing in a message box 'offline'. He noticed I had seen him do it and he said, "When I'm online, it's free game. Offline, it goes to a different server." I began to follow him out of the room. Once we were in the hall, I felt like I was being watched for a third time. I looked over my shoulder, but all I could see in the Animus room was the light from Shaun's computer. Nothing was there.

Shaun turned into the library, and after turning on some lights, he walked purposefully down the aisles until he found the one he was looking for. "I tore apart this section when it was first put in. There's loads of things to do here. That computer gives you tutorials on how to encrypt files, and you can try to beat my times, but I highly doubt that would ever happen." He said, pointing out an idling computer at the end of the aisle. "But…" he said, climbing the ladder to the left. "This is all of your basic encoding, coding, ciphers, Binary, Morse Code, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera." He said, pointing out books by their subjects. I noticed he'd come back with a book while coming down the ladder. He handed it to me. I couldn't see the title in the dim lights, but he explained it to me. "_Your_ Bible." He said. It was a small book, covered in leather. It didn't feel like a normal book you'd find in here. I took it out under a light, and I saw that it had no title on the cover or the binding. Shaun said he was going back in the Animus room. Once he'd left, I got that feeling yet again. I wasn't alone. Quickly, I opened the first page. It was a journal.

_November 19, 2012_

_I'm going on my first mission today. I know I've killed already, but not for the Assassins. A month ago, I didn't have a thought of killing anybody. Now, I'm going over ways in my head how to do it. Blade in the crowd? Shoot and run? Shoot from a distance? I still have that feeling in the back of my mind that _this is wrong_. That this is the reason I ran away from my parents. This is the reason I kept undercover for nine years. I don't want to hurt anyone. But I have to. Lucy tells me I have to. Even my parents told me I have to. "You were born this way, Desmond!" I remember my fath—_

This is wrong. Why am I reading this? It's personal. This is Desmond's _diary_. I closed the book, afraid of what would happen if I read more. I stand up, backing away from it. Shaun had said it was my "Bible". If this was my Bible, why did he think Desmond was God, then? I shook my head, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. When I opened my eyes, all light was blocked off by a looming figure in front of me. I gasped loudly and stumbled backwards into a shelf of books. It was Desmond.

"What the hell, man?" I asked, running my fingers through my hair.

"Read it. I told Shaun to give it to you." He said, sitting back on the table. "It'll tell you what to expect."

"Expect from what?" I asked.

"Everything." He said, getting up and leaving. I was alone now. I could feel it. I stared at the little leather-bound book on the table.

"Everything?" I whispered. I sat back down and opened the page again.

_I remember my father yelling. I told him I didn't want this. That this was bad. I remember being eight or nine at the time. I wouldn't kill a man, I told myself. Never. And I hadn't for twenty five years. I first killed two people when we were escaping Abstergo. I had done it on accident, shoving a man's nose into his brain, and breaking another man's femur. There was so much blood…I can't get the blood out of my head. The second time I killed…I don't know, six or seven? When we were leaving the hideout. We had trouble on the way to Florence, and Shaun had thrown me a bunch of throwing knives, and I had at the other drivers on the road. We almost crashed an innumerable amount of times, because of cars swerving with their dead drivers. When we arrived in Florence, back in the Animus I went, going through different ancestors on random days. I was everywhere—Italy, Africa, Spain, the Civil War…there were mostly wars. Wars and blood plagued me wherever I went. I took the information I had lived and I researched it, correcting things in the books Shaun so adores. I think he's pissed off at me for writing a different date down in the Salem Witch Trials. Maybe it's because of the different translation I provided for records of the Roman Forum. Different names, different places, different times. Everything was changing around me. Headaches are consuming me, even though I haven't worked with the Animus all that long. I have a feeling that they're going to get worse, if things keep changing. I walk a lot. I'm not yet allowed outside, even though I know every street, every building in Florence. I might as well be living somewhere I'd been my entire life. Well, I'd been living someone else's life. And everything feels so real, day after day after day. I'm so pissed off at myself. Why didn't I just stay? Stay and accept the life given to me? Obviously, Fate is not a friend to me. Neither me nor anyone._

The entry stopped there. I turned the page. There were more entries, more pages filled with Desmond's black-penned scrawl. The pages went all the way to the day before he came to get me. Two years of entries. Most of them logged every day. If not, every couple of days. I noticed his handwriting get smaller and smaller through the entries, smaller and neater. It morphed into cursive at some points, and eventually back into printed letters, all in the same, scary scrawl that looked like the product of seasoned serial killers.

I didn't want to read it. It felt weird, the way I was looking into someone's mind. I felt disgusting. I yawned. I had been up for an little over three hours. Lucy and Rebecca would be getting up in a bit. I decided to go back to my room. The clothes were on the chair again, so I got dressed and went to the kitchen, where Shaun was making his customary cup of tea. I rifled around the cabinets for a glass and found one. Using the sink, I got myself some water. Sipping it slightly, I suddenly grew very hungry. I leaned over the counter casually, trying to block out hunger pangs. "The food doesn't get put in until seven." Shaun said, looking distracted, in his own world of tea and a new book.

"What do you mean, put in?" I asked, turning around and taking a seat at the table.

"A chef comes in, cooks breakfast for us, makes us lunch, and leaves. All before seven-thirty. His name is Giuseppe. He works in the café across the street."

"Assassin?" I guessed.

"Never seen a man more skilled with a knife." He concluded, changing the direction of the handle of the cup from left to right. "But he does make an awesome pizza, doesn't he? He'd made it in the café, and just frozen it for us." I noted there was no refrigerator.

I checked my watch. It was 6:50. Ten seconds later, it was 6:51. Shaun and I sat quietly in the kitchen. "You must be exhausted." I commented on his haggard look, his unruly hair, and the dark circles under his eyes.

"I haven't had a proper night's sleep in weeks, love. I'm used to it." Of course. "You're the one who looks exhausted. How much of that book did you read?"

"Enough." He didn't know I'd only read the first entry. "Why, anyways? I feel all weird when I read it."

"Hey, it wasn't my idea. I just wanted to show you encoding." He said, his eyes averted to the cup he was sipping at. I bit my lip to keep from saying anything. "By the way, I fixed the Animus. I was meaning to tell you before, but…I guess it just slipped my mind. You can use the databases now, and the translators are all fixed. To access the map, you just have to go to the database, and select it from there." I was still confused at his words.

"Access the what from the what?" I asked. He sighed.

"It's better we explain it to you when we're with you in the Animus." He said this brought up a question in my mind.

"What does Desmond do?" I asked.

"He provides…emotional support. Basically in charge of you out here. Bloody useless, if you ask me. You'd have a better idea if you ask him yourself." I stared him down with an 'are you kidding' look and he turned back to his tea.

Something rustled from behind me and a tall, tanned man came in with a blank expression on his handsome face. He was wearing a white jacket and cotton pants. He was carrying a brown paper bag full of groceries. He turned to his workstation without another word. "He can't speak English." Shaun commented. "He's told not to linger, only to fix our meals and leave. There's not much to watch." He said, pouring more tea in his cup. "Come here. I want to show you something." He said, walking out. I could see Rebecca stumbling down the hallway but I didn't have time to greet her before I walked into the library. Shaun was at the end of the library, standing in front of a picture I hadn't noticed before.

It was more of a mural, but it was on an unsized wall. It had been stolen, or passed down, though the former seemed to be the more likely. It was a giant battle of sorts, with people on two sides, about to clash. "It's called 'The War'." He said after a beat. I looked up at it. It was about ten feet tall, and twenty feet wide. "Commissioned by Michelangelo in 1518."

"Surely someone's heard about it?" I breathed, trying to take in the excessive usage of red paint.

"By commissioned, I mean made as a gift. For us." I wondered how far 'hospitality' had been stretched in this case. "We're the reason no one's heard about it." He smiled down at me, a good head taller. "It's a scene from the Crusades, or so I hear. There's a passage written in Arabic at the bottom. I haven't yet studied that language, but…in time, I will." We stood there for a good ten minutes before one of us made a sound. Shaun had coughed, but made no move to speak or leave. We just kept staring at the painting, absorbing the images and people. An unknown time passed before Shaun looked down at his watch. "Giuseppe must be done by now." He said, and I followed him back into the kitchen, where the Italian man was gone, in his place was a huge platter of eggs, bacon, and a section of toast. "Oh, lovely." Shaun said, pouring another cup of tea before sitting down with Rebecca and Lucy.

"Well, somehow, the machine's all fixed up. There shouldn't be any problems today. Go ahead, eat. We're not taking any breaks today." I nodded at Lucy and got myself a plate of eggs and toast, while thinking over what was going to happen today. How long was I going to stay in the Animus? Was I going to turn into Subject 16? My appetite was slowly declining because of these thoughts. I made myself eat what was on the plate, and I refilled it twice before it was just me and Shaun, yet again.

"Are you always going to keep watching me like this?" I asked slowly, putting my dish in the sink.

"You bet, love. I was assigned to you as well, if you haven't noticed." He said, sitting lazily in his chair, stirring around his cold tea with his finger. I noticed there was a ring on his finger. Was he married? Engaged?

"How many people are assigned to me?" I had asked instead.

"Well, everyone in the compound but Rebecca." He said.

"Why not her?" I asked, interested.

"She…just wasn't assigned." He said, shrugging and getting up. "Let's go." So we began to walk towards the Animus room. He broke off from me and I sat down without a word. Rebecca stuck the needle in me, and I blanked out.

* * *

The loading room was somehow different. The squares seemed more defined than blurry, and the white was calming somehow.

(We're putting you in a different memory, before the one you did yesterday.) Rebecca's voice echoed all around me. (About a week before.)

(Now that the databases are up as well as the map, do you want to run a tutorial or something, Lucy?) Shaun's voice asked.

"I'll be fine." I said aloud.

(Just relax and clear your head at some point. I'm sure you'll figure it out.) Lucy's high voice said. There was one person's voice missing—Desmond. I waited quietly, _maybe he was speaking softly_, I told myself. But he'd not been in the room. He must be outside.

The world took shape around me, and I found myself idly drawing faces when there were three sharp raps at the door—Ezio. I rushed over, tossing my studies aside. I opened the door, expecting the tall, looming man to be there.

Instead, there was a guard. I felt my toes clench and my eyes go wide. "Are you Nora Titanimo?" he asked in an accusatory voice. I nodded once. "Follow me." He said, turning around. I looked back at the workshop, _Messer da Vinci _would be back in a few minutes…

The guard walked ahead of me for some time, passing merchants and people. Suddenly, he turned into a courtyard. I stood at the archway, unsure of whether to enter. "Hasten, girl." He said, his gruff voice echoing around me. I scurried in, in front of him.

"Is there a problem?" I asked, looking around. The sun was setting, giving the courtyard a half-shadow from the building to the west.

"Are you familiar with Ezio Auditore?" he asked. I felt my knees tremble. I was scared, but I wouldn't let him know the truth.

"Who?" I asked, trying to sound deceiving.

"The Assassin!" he yelled in my face. "We know you live with that painter, and he knows something he won't tell us!" I shrunk back.

"I…I know nothing!" I insisted. The guard would have nothing of it.

"Maybe this will help you remember!" he roared. Something connected with the side of my face, and I fell to the floor, crying out in pain. The guard's boot connected with my face, knocking my vision about. I was about to cry for help, but it was cut off by his boot in my gut. I felt tears threaten to fall. This was not happening, this was not happening…

With a _ssshink_ and a thud, the kicking and beating stopped. I tasted blood in my mouth. "Nora." A gentle voice said. I looked up through teary eyes. A blurry Ezio was kneeling above me. I sobbed loudly, the pain in my stomach almost unbearable. "Can you stand?" he asked softly.

"I'm…I...I'm fine." I said defiantly, biting my lip and standing up, shaking it off like I wasn't just beaten by a man with particularly hard boots. I spat out blood in the grass. I didn't care where the guard was; just as long as he wasn't anywhere near me. I began to stumble to the arch, but I swayed violently on the spot. Ezio took hold of my arm, and I didn't push him off.

"Where's Leonardo?" he asked once the workshop was in sight. I nearly cried in relief, but I willed myself not to. Not with Ezio around. He opened the door and rushed me over to the couch, making me lay down on my back.

"Messer da Vinci is out giving his commission to a patron." I said, wincing when I moved the muscles around my stomach. "_Ho la nausea."_ I groaned. Ezio came back with some things in his arms—I couldn't see what.

"Leonardo uses this stuff on me." He said, laughing. "It's a good thing I pay attention." He used a cold rag to wipe up the blood on my face, and he left a clean one over my forehead. "Nora…?" he asked. I opened my eyes and looked at him. He had a worried face.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

"I can't treat your wound down here unless you take off your dress." He said. I felt my face turn red. I ran through inventory of everything I was wearing: flats, stockings, two slips, and the dress. I tried to figure out a way to do this.

"_Va bene._ Give me a minute." He stood up and turned around politely, but I still felt embarrassed. I bit my lip hard when I had to pull my dress off, and I shimmied the second slip towards my waist. I lay back, exhausted. "Okay." I said. Ezio turned around slowly. I handed him the slip he was supposed to pull up, and he did, very slowly, very uncertainly. I looked away, biting my lip to keep the scalding blush from creeping up my neck.

Ezio hissed. "This looks really bad." He said. "The most Leonardo would do is tell me to sit it out, and use a cold rag, but…" his voice showed the uncertainty of someone who was used to knowing what to do. "Where did Leonardo go?" he asked, his breath hot on my stomach.

"He should be back by now—" I groaned, looking at the door. As if on cue, it swung open, a whistling Leonardo da Vinci striding across the threshold. Ezio got up, silent as the wind.

"Leonardo." He said, making his presence known. Messer da Vinci was lost from my view when he'd said it.

"Ahh, Ezio. I didn't see you there." He said, delighted. "What can I do for you?" I could picture him folding his hands in front of himself.

"Nora's been hurt badly. I saved her from a guard." He said, motioning over to me. Messer da Vinci dropped something urgently and rushed over with a swish of his cape and a rustle of clothes.

"Nora?" he asked when he saw my bruised and beaten form. "What happened?" he asked, kneeling next to me not unlike the way Ezio had.

"Nothing. I took a wrong turn, and—" Ezio caught me in my lie.

"She was getting beaten by a guard, Leonardo." A thought went through my mind. _Somehow, when Ezio says it, Messer da Vinci's first name sounds good._ I close my eyes, unable to meet those of my teachers'.

"Why?" he asked, his hands fluttering over the bruise like butterflies. It tickled in a sort of demonic way.

"The same reason you had been. Me." Ezio said vaguely. I had no idea what he was talking about. My eyes flew open. Messer da Vinci had been _beaten_ by a _guard_? It must've been when he was in _Firenze_.

"Ezio, this is not your fault." Messer da Vinci said, looking over his shoulder. "Nora, this will be a little cold." He said, right before the coldest thing I'd ever felt went over my stomach. I gasped a little bit, making him laugh.

"A _little_ cold?!" I hissed, plopping my head down on the arm of the couch. "_Moltissimo freddo!"_ I said. I heard Ezio snicker in a corner. "Ezio, the next time we meet like this, it will be the end of my patience." I warned.

"Only in your best interests." He laughed.

"Surely." The world around me turned white, and I was pulled back.

* * *

_On to the next??_


	8. Chapter 8

_2/4_

**Disclaimer: I don't own the game Assassin's Creed**

* * *

I rubbed my eyes. The throbbing had turned to burning. I blinked a couple of times, wiping away where my eyes had watered. "Why'd we stop?" I asked, fighting off a yawn. I was exhausted. I had half a mind to go check for teeth and bruises.

"The Animus is getting hot. It's just for a few minutes. You'll be back in right away, it's okay." Rebecca said, standing up and stretching. I looked around, not standing. Lucy was away from her desk, looking over a couple of books in a nearby bookcase. Shaun was doing the same, but he was rearranging pins on a corkboard. I noticed his tea was still sitting on the edge of his desk. I smiled at the thought.

"Where's Desmond?" I asked, looking around for the assassin.

"He's…well, I don't really know where he is." Lucy said, turning her head only slightly. "You're welcome to go explore." She said. Shaun sighed, throwing a look her way. He put down the red pushpin he was holding and walked out the door. I stood up, following him out. We passed a door that was slightly open. Somehow it stuck in my mind; usually things like that do.

"You do realize by now that my task is to keep tabs on you, wherever you go, every day?" he asked, walking in step with me. "Come on. I'm gonna show you something cool." He sped up a bit. I kept pace with him at a jog. He went down the stairs, and turned into a door I hadn't noticed before.

It was a very dim room, accented only with the four rows of computer screens set up on a desk. On the screens, grainy black and white images were being shown through quartered areas. "This is where we keep track of everything. If you stare at these long enough, you'll see Desmond." He said, sitting down in a swivel chair. I took the one next to him. He typed in a command in the keyboard in front of him. "I'm searching for thermal readings." He hit enter, and one screen blacked out. The other three were filled with wide-screen images. "That's us." He pointed at the one with a picture of a man pointing at a screen. I turned around in the direction of the camera, finding the blinking red light instantly. "That's Rebecca and Lucy, in the Animus room…" he pointed to the one next to it, the man on the left pointing to a different screen as well.

"What about this one?" I asked, pointing to the one that was left. There seemed to be nothing going on.

"Desmond seems to be in that one, seeing as it only picks up human readings. If I'm not mistaken, that's Desmond's room." He said.

"Oh," was all I said. I looked around at the picture I was given. There was a bed and a chair, like mine, a punching bag hanging from the corner, and a dresser. "Well where is he?" I asked, not seeing anything.

"Here's the thermal image." He said. He clicked something and the screen went partially black, with the exception of an orange blob on the floor, hidden by the bed. "Oh shit, why is he on the ground?" Shaun groaned, like he had something better to be looking at.

"Can you get a different angle on the camera?" I asked, a slight part of me knowing this was bad.

"There's another camera in the hall, but it's useless unless the door's open." He said, clicking his way into a menu, and going through the choices in the options. He chose one and I saw an image of a slightly door. Shaun sighed, about to click out of it, but I made him stop.

"Wait. Zoom in, towards the floor, at the bottom of the door." I said; pointing to the area I was talking about. He did as I said, and I saw a hand outstretched in front of it, barely distinguishable in the black and white. "Oh, God." I said, standing up.

"Wait, what—?" I bolted out of the room. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong indeed. I shot up the stairs, heading for the Animus room, but turning a sharp right when I saw the door that was cracked open. Something was wrong.

"Desmond?" I asked, pushing the door open with my hand. I looked down at the floor. There was blood dripping from his head, and his eyes were closed. "Oh God." I whispered. I knelt beside him, looking around the room to see what had happened. There was blood on the corner of the dresser. "Lucy!" I called. Something must've been in the tone of my voice, because a split-second later, she was next to me, helping me move Desmond to the bed.

"What happened?" she asked, looking over the scene like I had been.

"I saw through the camera that he was on the floor, and I got this…this, I don't know, bad feeling, and I came in here and there he was!" I said, my voice frantic.

"Calm down. Shaun, can you get the medical kit?" Lucy ordered in a calm voice. I turned my head just quick enough to see a foot slip around the doorframe. Rebecca had come in as well, trying to investigate.

"He seemed to have hit his head on the side of the desk." She observed, looking around. "The patterns in the rug show he tripped over something." She went on, but neither of us was listening.

"He's lost some blood, but he'll be fine as long as he rests for awhile." Lucy said, reaching for a bandage that had come almost literally out of nowhere. She turned to me once the bleeding was staunched. "You saved his life. Thank you." She gave me a small smile before turning back to Desmond.

"…The window's open, guys." Rebecca said, making my head swivel up. Lucy didn't seem to notice. I got off the bed, walking over to where she stood.

"Why's it open?" I asked, once I stood beside her.

"Because that's how he got in." She said.

"So he climbed through, tripped, and knocked himself out on the dresser?" I asked, looking around, the scene playing out in my mind.

She shook her head worriedly. "I don't think so." She said, pointing to something left on the sill of the window. "I think this is really bad." She said.

The bloody handprint was shining in the late-afternoon sun. It was fresh.

"Tell Lucy." I said, pushing her toward the blonde-haired woman.

"Lucy, let me see Desmond's palm." She said. Lucy looked up at us strangely, but pulled his hand out. Clean. The other one as well. "Shaun, I need you to run through all security footage from the last ten minutes." Again, Shaun was out the door.

"What's going on?" Lucy asked, standing up.

"There's a bloody handprint on the sill." Rebecca said, pointing it out to her. Lucy examined it for a few seconds.

"Rebecca, get a swab of this. Send it in to Headquarters." What? I thought _this_ was Headquarters. Rebecca nodded, going out the door, in the same direction as Shaun.

"What should I do?" I asked. I didn't have encryption skills, or a degree in forensic sciences.

"I need you to make sure you don't get like this. Get back in the Animus; it's cooled down." She snapped, pacing the room. "No. That'd make us too vulnerable. Stay with Shaun. Be his shadow. You'll pick something up on why." She said, the last sentence confusing me immensely. Rebecca had come back in with a swab and a plastic tube.

I nodded and scurried out of the room, after a worried look at Desmond. Why was this happening? I thought as I walked to the room that Shaun was in. I knocked on the door; for it was closed. I heard a low grunt from inside and I entered.

Shaun's face was bathed in artificial light, his mouth hanging open slightly in concentration. I took the seat next to him. He was watching the security tapes in fast-forward. "You take those two." He said in a monotone, pointing to the two screens to the left, in front of me. Without a word, I watched both from my peripheral vision. He was watching three at once. He had the outside door, Desmond's room, and an outside camera facing Desmond's room. I was watching the Animus room and the front door.

I watched people speed-walk past the gates leading into the mansion, idle in their own minds, while we were spinning around in ours. I noticed Shaun was mumbling to himself. "Five O' Clock Shadows…bastards."

"What?" I asked. He tapped a few keys on the keyboard and the screen went back.

"This is five minutes before we came in here." He said. Suddenly, his three screens went black, and mine stayed on. "They cut our cameras for four minutes, thirty-two seconds. In that time frame, Desmond was put in the room, and he had tripped and fell." He said. I debated whether or not to tell him about the handprint. I told him in the end. "You said it was a bloody handprint, like, actual blood, or are you just playing on my accent?" he asked, sarcastically.

"Of course not!" I exclaimed. "It was gross!" I said, shaking my head. "Rebecca's sending DNA samples to Headquarters or something."

"Come with me." He said, leaving the desk. I knew where he was going before we'd left the room: the library.

He went down the aisle that had the encryption and code books in it. He went on the left side, and bent down to the last shelf. Did he know where everything was? "Shaun, were you ever a librarian?" I asked.

"Worked as one every summer until collage." He said, pulling out a book. I tilted my head so I could see the title: _Ancient Symbols and Their Meanings_. He began to flip through the pages, until he stopped, turning back five or so. "Here we are." He said, walking out to the tables, laying it flat on a wooden surface.

There was a picture of a red hand, on a door. Shaun read the passage next to it. "'The Red Hand of Death originated circa 3000 BC, by Egyptian Pharaohs and kings. It is a sign of death and evil, and the family's door that was marked with it would be banished to the deserts, being forced to starve and shrivel without food or water.'" He closed the book. "That's all I've ever seen on that. But somehow, information sticks with me, you know?"

"You have a photographic memory?" I asked. He nodded. "So…what does this mean?" I asked.

"Something bad. Someone wants to banish Desmond, or, more likely, _you_, to an unbelievable hell." He said, biting his lip and shrugging before going to put the book away.

"What the hell!" I said. "Is it so much to ask for a life where no one sends cryptic messages to you through their _blood_?" I asked, following him out. Shaun didn't answer. "I didn't ask for this! I'm not an Assassin!" I said.

"Listen very closely." He said, turning around. This was the first time I'd heard him sound this serious. "You _are_ an Assassin. Not now, but you will be. Now, some people believe that you're the key that will unlock some sort of ancient past for us, something that will give us leverage over the Templars. This is why they're trying to kill you. They don't want to kidnap you, like they did Desmond and Subject 16. They know something we don't, and it's not good. You're going to help us," he sighed. "Or you're going to die."

I swallowed, trying to take in his words. "So I...you're basically saying I'm going to have to save the world?" I asked, shaking my head and looking down.

"The world is already saved, love. It's you who's going to help us reclaim it. But you won't be on your own when you do." He smiled warmly, adjusted his glasses, and walked into Desmond's room.

"Anything?" Lucy asked.

"No. They cut the cameras before we could see what had happened." He said. I caught how he had said "we". But I wouldn't say anything. "And that little handprint you've got over there, that's a mark of death." He said. I walked in.

"You're kidding." Lucy said sarcastically.

"It's Egyptian. We've never seen Egyptian before." He said. I leaned on the doorframe. Desmond was now cleaned of blood, and he had a white bandage on his forehead. He seemed to be stirring, though I was the only one to notice. Rebecca was nowhere to be found.

"I have. Sixteen had ancestors in Egypt as well as almost the rest of the world." Lucy said. Shaun scoffed and I gave him a look. "Well, it looks like we've got little left to do here. Shaun, can you help me carry Desmond into the Animus room? We should continue, but keep an eye on him as well." I wasn't quite paying attention at this part. I'd seen a pure white dove fly onto the now-clean windowsill, and it seemed to look me straight in the eye. I took a step toward it, but it took fright and flew away, leaving a stick in its place. I picked up the stick, examining it. Olive branch.

"Are you ready to go?" Shaun asked. In the time I had spent engrossed in the bird and the olive stick, they had carried Desmond out and gotten the Animus to start. I put the stick in my pocket, and nodded. The comfort of having something in my pocket again was good. "Come on." He said, already out the door. I left the room, suddenly uncomfortable with being alone.

When I sat down in the Animus, Rebecca hesitated to stick the needle in my arm. Lucy started talking. "Now, since we've hit the three-day marker, you'll be seeing things change. In your personality, in your way of thinking, in your abilities," she said. I nodded. Was this the Bleeding Effect? "In a way, a part of you will become Nora. It's nothing to be worried about. Gradually, we're going to bring you up to speed, through the Animus."

"So it's like a virtual library." I said, glancing quickly at Shaun, who seemed to be ignoring what I'd said.

"Precisely." Lucy said, taking a seat at her desk. "That's all I wanted to tell you." Something pricked my arm and I fell back into the endless void of the Animus.

* * *

(This memory takes place two years after the one you had last time.) Lucy said all around me.

(You're in Monteriggioni, Ezio's uncle Mario's villa. Some things to look out for are the thieves, courtesans, and mercenaries. They'd do anything for money, but since you're close to Leonardo and Leonardo is close to Ezio, they shouldn't do anything too drastic to you.) Shaun said. (You're currently Leonardo's model, assistant, and apprentice. But you know this already.)

(Monteriggioni is in Tuscany, so you'd be around a lot of fields and farmers. Just…expect this.) Rebecca's voice faded off into the distance as I became Nora Titanimo once again.

"Nora! I'm out of blue!" Messer da Vinci called up the stairs. He was making a commission for Messer Mario. From what it seemed to be, it was a painting of the Villa Auditore. I only expected that he was using a far bigger canvas than usual, so it was to be assumed that he needed more of everything.

I was staying in the Villa with Messer da Vinci, in my own room on the left side of the house. I sighed, putting down my studies for trees and plants. I brushed my skirt off, and walked down the stairs. "Is there anything else you need, Messer da Vinci?" I asked, not walking into the room.

"No, just blue." He said. I nodded to no one as I went out the door. I took in a deep breath; I hadn't been outside all day. The air was sharp and sweet. I could smell the wheat and grain fields just outside of Monteriggioni. I went down the left side of the stairs, heading for the Art Merchant.

"Ahh! Nora! You're back so soon?" the merchant, Luigi, greeted me with a smile, his sun-beaten face glowing. I knew this was a practiced look, but since I was close to being the only customer in the entire village, he encouraged me for my patronage.

"I need to pick up more blue." I said, fishing out ten florins. Ten florins bought the large paint bag. You never knew with Messer da Vinci.

"Ahh, yes." He disappeared through a door leading into storage, and I played with the coins on the wooden countertops. It was high noon, with the sun beating down on all sides of me, making it hard to see. Luigi came back a few seconds later with the paint. I handed over the florins, wishing him well. I began to walk back to the Villa.

Something bumped into me roughly, something tall, made of metal, and determined. I stumbled forward, looking around to see what had pushed me. The glare off of the display from the blacksmith blinded me momentarily, so I had to step forward a bit to properly look around. Squinting, I managed to see a few people, but nothing looked like a walking wall of determined metal.

Instinctively, my hand went to my purse. It was gone. Infuriated, I vowed to have a word with the leader of the Thieves' Guild. I stomped up the stairs. As usual, the _mercenari_ cat-called to me, whistling and making obscene gestures. I whirled on them, clutching the paint in my hands. "_Va al diavolo!_" I snapped at them, stomping into the Villa. I turned right sharply, to go into the room where Messer da Vinci was painting. He was patiently waiting on a stool, staring at the canvas. The canvas was blank. What had happened to the commission? "Here's your paint." I mumbled, handing it over.

"_Grazie_, Nora." He said, still looking at the canvas. I noticed someone talking with Claudia, Ezio's sister, at the desk. He was tall, taller than anyone I'd seen. He had a cape on his left shoulder, emblazoned with the Auditore Crest. Was that Ezio? I turned back to Messer da Vinci, to ask, but I could see that he wasn't going to give an answer anyway.

"Nora? You seem upset." Suddenly, my head snapped up, to look at Ezio. It was him! He looked much older now, by his height and build. I was speechless at how tall he was. How long had it been since I'd seen him? A year? I realized I had to answer.

"Ugh, some _cretino_ stole my purse a couple of minutes ago. Probably a new _ladri_." I scoffed, shaking my head. I couldn't help but notice the faint tinge of pink in his cheeks, and the metal armor he was wearing. I said nothing, waiting for him to spit it out.

"Hmm. What a horrible crime." He said. He knew I knew he was lying, but I was still waiting for him to say something.

"Are you going to be in Monteriggioni for long?" I asked.

"A week or so. I have to ride to Forlì soon." He nodded, glad of the change of subject. "Will you walk with me?" he said, holding his arm out. I nodded slowly, looping my arm through his. He led me out of the Villa, chattering aimlessly about his travels. I nodded absently, thinking about the grass and the trees and the stones. We turned the corner and I was pushed back against the wall. Ezio's face was inches from mine. "I've missed you so much, Nora." He said in a whisper before he kissed me.

(Whaaat? When did _this_ happen?)

I kissed him back equally, my hands wrapping around his neck, pulling his hood down and untying his hair from the leather band holding it in place. It fell like two curtains around us, and I was still kissing him. His hands slithered up my back, pulling my hair from the braid it had been in.

I'd missed him so much. It'd been way too long since he'd last visited, and letters only did so much. I wanted to join him in the cities, but he told me he'd be jeopardizing my safety. I could take care of myself, I said.

"You didn't have to steal my money to get my attention, _amore mio_." I laughed between kisses. He had to stoop down to reach me. Curse my lack of height.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He mumbled, holding me close. The armor smelled rank and of blood.

"You're only here a week?" I asked, like I had said he was going to leave in five minutes.

"Ten days." He said, stroking my hair. "I have some things I need to do here anyways, so I have a ready excuse if I need to stay longer." He said, his throat rumbling against the top of my head.

"And I'm not reason enough?" I asked, mock-pouting.

"You know I don't like rumors." He said. "Besides, people can get jealous." He said, pulling me closer.

(Shaun, leave the room.)

(You didn't do th…with…)

"I can take care of myself. I can take care of you as well. How many new scars do you have now? I asked, lowering my hands to his back. He shivered, despite the warm day.

"Too many to count." He said, pulling away slightly. He cupped the sides of my face in his hands, stroking the long white scar on my cheek with his thumb. "This is the only one I regret." He said, leaning his forehead against mine.

"Ezio, stop worrying yourself." I said, leaning back. I took his hands from my face and led him back inside. Quietly, we walked up the stairs, hand in hand. He pulled me down the right side, and walked down the hall towards his mother's room. I stopped at the door, looking in on Maria Auditore praying by the window. She had gray hairs sprinkling her scalp. A year ago, she wouldn't leave the bedside. Ezio crossed the room, placing eagle feathers in a box for his brother Petruccio. I talked to Maria often, about her family, about her life before her husband's trial. He knelt beside his mother, exchanging a few quick words and a kiss on the cheek before returning to me.

"Let's go." I said, pulling him to my room. Once we were inside, he swooped down, kissing me on the lips. I smiled into them, and pulled away. "First things first." I said. "Armor, shoes, clothes. Off." I instructed, but half of his weapons and his shoes were already on the floor. He knew the drill. I smiled, getting a cloth and the basin of water from the vanity. He leaned against the vanity, clad only in his breeches and the leather necklace with five silver beads on it.

His perfect, scarred body stood next to me, bathed in golden light from the sun. I sighed. There were more scars than last time. A year does that to people. I took the arm closest to me, washing it until I got to his shoulder. I washed him in silence, enjoying the way his skin seemed to brighten up when I was done. With a dry cloth, I dried him off, suddenly tired. The lazy days in the country had caught up to me. He held me against his toned body, his honey-olive skin against my face. "And what of you, _caro mio_?" he asked, his body shifting underneath me. I breathed against him. "Has your friend Domenico come around lately?" he asked. I felt my face get hot.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Who is this Domenico of which you speak?" I asked, looking up at him, eyes wide. His hair framed his face. I resisted the urge to brush the snarls out of it, but that would be for another day.

"I've heard rumors of there being a better swordsman in Monteriggioni than _zio _Mario_._ He shows up at the most random of moments. I hear his fights are legendary." Ezio whispered against my head. I held my breath. "I heard he has a scar on the small of his back, for when he was going up against three of the strongest _mercenari _in all of _la Toscana._"

"I've never even heard of this Domenico that you speak of. I'm sure that if _he_ did come to Monteriggioni, you'd be the first to go and fight him. Though I doubt you'll win." I smirked into his torso.

"Maybe if someone got a hold of this Domenico," his hands began to slither down my back. "That can be proven." I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Maybe someone knows him in town." I said in a whisper. I could hear the floor creak from under me. "You can go find him there."

"Then I will go seek him out." Ezio said, pulling away from me, and reaching for his clothes. I swatted his hand away from the pile of black, pulling him with me toward the bed.

"That can be for later." I said, pulling him down on top of me.

The world flashed white and I felt a quick surge of energy.

(Shaun, you're allowed back in now.)

(God, what took so long?)

(Shut up.)

* * *

_Yay! An explanation of why we don't see sex!_


	9. Chapter 9

_3/4_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed or its affiliates.**

* * *

I looked at myself in the mirror before I went out, leaving a sleeping Ezio behind me. The gray pants and green shirt accented each other. I rolled my hair up into a cap, and tugged on the brown leather boots I had gotten from the _sarto_. Sneaking down to the Auditore Villa Armory, I chose the Shianova from the rack, because it was the most powerful weapon in the room. I didn't know what sword Ezio had, but I assured myself that it couldn't be better than the Shianova.

To get warmed up for today's events; I stored the valuable sword behind the stables before setting off at a light run around Monteriggioni. It felt great to just _run_ again and not have to worry about a dress or people seeing me. That was the reason I invented Domenico. So I could have people stare at me, cheer for me, want to be my friend. I invented him so I could put down my guard (figuratively) and just _live_. If living meant risking my life in the sparring ring, then so be it.

About halfway around the Villa, I started to hear something. It wasn't horse hooves. It wasn't footsteps on the trail. I couldn't place it. I kept running, wondering if it was just coming from inside the house. A couple of minutes later, I heard it again. This time, it wasn't a coincidence. I stopped, looking around. To my left was the thirty-meter wall that protected the village. To my right, was a small cluster of farm houses, with a tired old horse tied up front. In front of me and behind me was just trail. I finally had the sense to look up. On top of the wall was a lone figure, most likely a patrolling _mercenario_. He didn't seem to see me. I shook my head and kept running, pumping my arms to get my heart beating faster.

Once I was finished with running, I retrieved the sword and strapped it to a belt I had also gotten from the _sarto_. I decided to mingle around with the early-morning crowds. I made my way over to the Thieves' Guild. Instantly, three thieves recognized me from the Shianova (I had used it last time, a month ago) and the green shirt. "Domenico!" they chorused, swaggering over. I walked with one hand on the hilt of the sword. Pulling off a smile, I gave in to the temptation to talk.

"Ahhh, how have you been?" I asked, lowering my voice a bit. The shirt was baggy enough to cover up…some things.

"_Bene, bene._" They said.

One man in particular, the tallest of the three, spoke up. "Are you going to be staying in Monteriggioni for long?" he asked.

"Oh, just a couple of days. No less than a week. There's a tournament in Venice just calling my name." I laughed. The thieves all looked at me with wide eyes, admiring me.

"Surely you stopped in for some training here? I hear Messer Ezio is in town for a fortnight." I made a confused face.

"Who is this Ezio that has swooped in and captured my attention so?" I asked loudly. Some other thieves and citizens had gathered round.

"He's the heir to the Villa, after _Signore_ Mario." A small boy of about ten answered, wanting attention. He was about three feet from me. I knelt down to his size.

"Is he any good with a sword?" I asked. He nodded. "Is he quick on his feet?" I said. Another nod. "Do you think I can take him?" I whispered, so just he could hear it.

"Absolutely." He said. The crowd had grown quite quiet. I stood up from the ground to face the crowd.

"There will be a match today! Go fetch this Messer Ezio, if he's not asleep!" I said. Instantly, half a dozen people went off towards the Villa with excited faces.

I had never really seen Ezio fight with a sword. He'd always fought with that hidden blade of his. And even when I'd had to kill that guard, he still used the Notched Cinquedea I envied. With a sword, I had yet to find out.

I had a joyous breakfast with the _ladri_ and the _mercenari_, in which there was lots of storytelling. I knew all of the stories that they had to tell, because I was there when they happened in Monteriggioni. I made up wonderful stories, for I had none of real truth to tell.

"…And then I was running over rooftops, cursing that maiden that had caught my eye. I had eight or nine archers on my tail, and all around _L'Arsenale_, there were brutes and guard captains and enough archers to kill me four times over!" the group laughed, and I took a swig of wine. The Chianti was amazing. "Then, everything seemed to stop." I said, and the group fell quiet, waiting for what happened next. "I turn around at the archers, and I pull out my sword. A couple of them stop, amazed at me. Three others keep running at me, swords drawn, bows forgotten long before. I duck down at the first one, slicing half of his leg off!" the crowd cheered. "The next two I kick off of the roof, not bothering to see their fate. Then, the other five archers come charging at me, swords raised, yelling like hell itself was standing there."

"_Five_ archers?" someone asked down the table.

"More or less." I shrugged. "So, I dispatch three of them within the first minute, another runs off in fright, and I face the last one. Now, the first thought I had was 'How in God's Name did a brute get up on top of the roofs?'" the crowd laughs heartily. "I decide that I'd have a better fate running than trying to fight this wall of metal, so I flee. I eventually lost him once I entered the San Polo _distretto_, when he tried to make a jump across a river." I said, chuckling. "I say _tried_." The laughs went around the table again. "And that is the end of that story."

"And the maiden?" a familiar voice asked from behind me. I turned around. _Signore_ Mario.

"Well, let's just say that she got what she deserved." I said, smiling out of the corner of my mouth. "It's nice to see you, Mario." I said.

"You too, Domenico." He laughed loudly, slapping me on the back. "Are you here to train again, _figlio_?"

"Absolutely. I have a date with a certain Ezio. Do you happen to know him?" I asked. I knew the answer he was going to say.

"Ezio?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. "My _nipote_?" he asked. I made a face of bewilderment.

"Mario, you have a _nephew_?" I asked, making everyone around me laugh. "Let's hope he's better than you are!" I laughed, downing the rest of my wine.

"At high noon today, you will have met your match!" he laughs. "Come, walk with me." The crowd around me groaned, for I had promised to tell them about the time I'd beaten someone over the head with their own_ chitarra_. I nodded and stood up, leaving the cup on the table.

Once we were outside, he asked, "How goes it in_ Venezia_?"

"The Templars are planning to assassinate the Doge, but I assume you already know this." I knew this information from what exclusive details Ezio has given me through letters.

"Yes. And they plan to put one of their own in Doge Mocenigo's place." He looked down. "This troubles me. If they gain control of Venice, they gain control of all major commerce, trade, banks, and of course _L'Arsenale._"

"We cannot let this happen." I said, turning a corner with him.

"No. I need you to speak with Gilberto again. He will tell you what to do. But for now," he said, lightening up. "I cannot wait to see you face Ezio. I have told him of your skill, and he has seen you fight not six months ago!" I felt my insides drop down. Ezio was here, and he didn't tell me? How could he?!

"I'm f-flattered." I said, stumbling on my words. "I hope I find him a respectful challenge. And I hope you see me no differently after the events of today." I bowed my head to him. He rested his hand on my shoulder, something he'd never do when I was Nora. When I was Nora, Mario didn't even acknowledge me. He treated me like I was his son when I was Domenico. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go rest for a bit before noon. _A più tardi._"

"_A più tardi."_ He said, and I walked off towards the Villa, the walk turning into a fast-walk, to a jog, to a full-on sprint. I felt my chest heaving with each breath. I turned into the house, and flew up the stairs to Nora's room. Once inside, I changed into my normal clothes, calming myself. Ezio had been here, and he'd hadn't told me? How could he not tell me! I felt something wet drip onto my cheek. I looked up. Was the roof leaking? I wiped it away, but I somehow found myself collapsed on the floor, crying. My Domenico clothes, as I call them, had been hastily thrown into a chest at the foot of my bed. My heart ached as I cried. Where was Ezio? I needed him here.

"Nora? What's happened?" I heard his voice from the door. He closed it, rushing forward to me. He held me in his arms, looking me over for a scratch or injury. "Are you hurt?"

"Of course I'm hurt, you _bastardo_!" I wailed, pushing him away. He looked hurt. I went over to the window, closing it. The room was now dim.

"What's wrong? I don't know what you're talking about!" he said. I could see a bit of anger flare up in him, something I'd never seen before. I felt slightly scared, but I still told him why.

"You were _here!_" I cried, whirling on him. "Six months ago!" I said, wiping away tears. "How come you didn't tell me? I would've dropped _anything _for you, Ezio!" I accused. I remember something he wrote in a letter a few weeks ago: _'Nora, you have no idea how much I miss you. If I could take you with me, I'd be the happiest man alive_…' obviously not.

"You weren't here either!" he roared. I wondered if anyone else in the house could hear us. He was scaring me now, with all of his anger seeping out between his armor and his words. "I came there for _you_, Nora! All I could see was some stupid _ladri_ named Domenico!" he shouted at me. So that was how he knew. "I wanted so desperately, so badly to see you, but you were someone else! Not even Leonardo knows about this!" he said.

"If you were here, this wouldn't have happened, Ezio! I'm sick of being the same old person every day, while you're out seeing the _world_!" I cried, taking a step back from him. His fists were clenched, and his body language told me he was thinking of advancing on me. I felt my back hit the wall.

"I do this because I want you to have a better life than me! I don't bring you with me because I know you'll be killed! You think I _want_ you to die?" he yelled, trying to maintain his composure. I wanted to flee. I wanted to jump out the window and start running.

"Ezio, you're scaring me." I said, shrinking down. I choked on a sob.

"You're so stupid sometimes! Sometimes I think I never should've saved you. Never!" he realized what he had said, but the damage had been done. He didn't care about me. I felt my eyes get big. My nose stung. My hands no longer supported me on the wall, and I slid down it, not breathing. "Nora…" he said, falling to his knees. He put his hands on my upper arms. I flinched, feeling my heart breaking into a million pieces, even more. "Nora, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry." He whispered in my ear. I wanted to die. Pain ripped through my chest, leaving a gaping wound in its place. "Nora, _bella mia_, _mi dispiace,_ I don't mean that." He said, trying to get me out of shock. I shook my head. Tears were still falling. "Don't cry, please don't cry." He mumbled. I could tell he felt miserable. He wiped the tears away as they fell.

We sat there for what seemed like hours, when I suddenly stood up, tearing off my dress. I heard Ezio stand up as I tugged on the shirt, pants, cap, and boots. I turned around, noting Ezio's sword. It had a handle in the shape of an eagle's head, and it almost touched the ground. Otherwise, it looked like any old sword. But knowing Ezio, it had some sort of secret to it that I didn't know. I strapped on the Shianova without another word. "You don't want to miss your fight." I said, in my Domenico voice. I was Domenico.

"Nora, I—" I cut him off.

"I'm not Nora." I said, walking down the stairs and out of the villa. I scrubbed at my cheeks, trying to rub off the dried tears. No one would notice if I kept my confidence up. And if Ezio didn't give anything obvious away, like going easy on me.

For the next hour before I faced Ezio in the ring, I hung around, giving pointers to people training. "Keep your hand up!" I said to a _mercenario_ training with Mario. Immediately, his hand flew upward, blocking an attack from the Auditore.

I drifted in and out of thought, my eyes glazing over sometimes. At one point, I was feeling restless, so I jumped in the ring. The last two people had suffered minor injuries, and Mario was dragging the protesting _ladre_ to the doctor's. I started talking to some people outside of the ring, looking up at the sun every so often, asking, "Does it look like it's noon yet?"

Soon enough, Mario came back to the ring, amused that I had taken over so quickly. He then disappeared inside the Villa, most likely to fetch Ezio. "So are you nervous, Domenico?" someone shouted out.

"Who said that?" I asked sharply. The crowd fell quiet and a single hand was raised in the air. I walked over to his side of the ring. "You, sir, what's your name?"

"Marco Esposito." He said. He looked to be about fifteen, but he was confident.

"Well, my good Marco, I can personally tell you that I am not." I said with a smile. The crowd laughed, the tense silence only a joke.

"Domenico!" Mario's voice boomed over the laughter. "This is Ezio!" he said. I turned back to the direction of his voice. I felt my stomach flip over.

There was only one of two possibilities: one, Ezio would go easy on me, and everyone would patronize him and his reputation will be lost. Two, he was the greatest swordsman in all of _Italia_ and he would crush me flat into the ground, and I would die. It depended on the level of anger that he still had inside of him.

The crowd parted and I could only see two silhouettes, one short and stout, and the other well-built and tall. I stayed where I was. "Ezio, this is Domenico. You saw him fight, haven't you?" Mario slapped him on the back. I could feel Ezio's eyes boring into my skull, but I kept a face of indifference and curiosity.

"A perfect rival." He said in a monotone. Oh, this wasn't good.

(You're going to have to fight him. We can't unlock any other memories until you've completed this one.)

Ezio hopped over the low fence. The crowd was feeling antsy. I felt all eyes on me, leaning back against the wooden posts. I pretended to be sizing him up, moving my head up and down, looking for weaknesses and flaws. But that was the thing about Ezio—everything was perfect. I didn't know his weaknesses. I didn't know his fighting style. He was at more of an advantage than he'd ever know. He'd seen me fight before, and he knew that my left side was always open too much. I knew this, so he must know. You couldn't slip anything past Ezio.

"Well, go on, shake hands and start!" Mario said from the sidelines, drinking wine. I got off of the post and walked to the center of the ring.

"May the best man win." I said, like I always did. Ezio's face remained stony. I held my hand out, but he didn't move. No one seemed to breathe. I felt my hand shake under his stare. "Very well." I said, pulling it back. On instinct, I wiped it on my pants. For some reason, the intensity of Ezio's stare seemed to be multiplied in that instant. I tried to ignore it, pulling out the sword. I bowed to him with a flourish, making sure not to bow my head. I'd seen young _mercenari_ get smacked upside the head for doing this.

I heard him pull out his sword. I caught the eye of someone on the side before they moved out of view. I flicked my eyes back to Ezio, straightening my back, squaring my shoulders, and widening my stance, like I'd seen so many other people training do. My blood rushed through my eardrums, my heart beating in my throat. Above his head, I saw a familiar red hat standing on the side. Messer da Vinci?

I had no time to question before he threw out the first strike. Life kicked back into the crowd and I was acting on pure impulse, blocking his flurry of strikes. This sword was quick, and powerful. Was it better than my sword? I strafed away from a wide-swung attack, the edge of the sword cutting a seam off of my shirt. I threw him a dangerous glance. Our eyes locked, though his were clouded in something—his usually warm eyes looked more amber than anything. I took in a breath, blocking another attack from the mysterious sword. This couldn't be happening. He wasn't allowing me an opening to strike him. He lunged forward with the blade, and I had to gasp loudly and slip away frantically. A piece of Nora coming undone.

The crowd was in an uproar, yelling and cheering over the clash of blades against one another. Half yelled for me, though that number was steadily declining after my gasp of fear. The sword was frightening. It glinted like moonlight against my vision. He was using tactics now. I feinted to the left, hoping to get something in on his right, but he would have none of it. With a wave of leather, he whipped his cape in my face, making me stumble back. The crowd was dying down. I couldn't fight back. My mind was screaming for me to fight, but the most I could do against Ezio was block.

"He's just tiring Ezio out." Someone suggested. My head whipped around frantically, looking for ideas. I looked back, a split second later, but I got a face full of sand. The crowd murmured louder, worried. Ezio was playing dirty. Is that how he wanted to do it?

I spat out the sand violently, throwing the Shianova down with a small _clank_. The crowd was confused. What was Domenico doing? I was going to kill myself!

Before I knew what I was doing, I had taken Ezio around the middle, propelling him backward with my head and shoulders. With a shout, he hit the back of the fence, dropping his sword. I could feel his hands on my shoulders, but I just gripped his middle with all my might. With a giant heave, I managed to pick Ezio up, armor and all. I felt my legs screaming underneath me, and as I threw Ezio over my shoulder, I felt gravity take its toll on me, pulling him back, headlong, into the sands. The crowd was screaming. I rolled over, aching everywhere.

Somehow Ezio had managed to transform the fall into a dive through the sand. His once-clean robes were now covered in sand. I coughed; the dust had gotten in my lungs. I picked myself up, everything but my body protesting. With a roar that scared me, I was plowed back into the fence by Ezio, a repeat of what I had done. The fence creaked against the force put onto it, and I cried out in pain, sharp stabs racing up my spine. I beat against Ezio's back, halfheartedly.

I felt dizzy, my arms and legs feeling detached. I couldn't breathe. Ezio's head was still pressing into my diaphragm, and I gasped for air. "Ezi…Ezio…please…" I wheezed. No one seemed to even notice. Everything around me spun before it faded to black. I felt my body slide sideways and hit the ground.

(This is short. We already saw this memory from Desmond. You'll wake up soon, don't worry.)

I blinked my eyes against the sun. I felt my body scream and shout at me, blaming me for all of the abuse it had taken. I groaned and curled up on myself. I felt like throwing up. I could feel bruises all over my arms, legs, and stomach beginning to form. Worried waves of voices washed over me, and I felt sharp feelings of cold, then heat, then cold again. My hands felt clammy. My stomach pounded from inside of me, making me whimper in pain. "He's coming to!" someone shouted close by. I rolled my head around, blearily trying to wake up. I was still in the ring. I took a deep breath in, gasping at the sharp pain that punctured my breath. I must've broken something.

"Domenico, are you alright?"

"Can we get you some water, Domenico?"

"Hey, Domenico!"

"Domenico!"

"Domenico!"

"STOP!" I screamed, getting shakily to my feet. I kept a hand on the fence, my vision swimming around me. "Stop." I said hoarsely. I coughed. The crowd began to mumble, and the mumbling eventually turned into everyone shouting my name.

"Domenico, Domenico!"

"I'm not Domenico!" I shouted. The crowd fell quiet almost eerily. I felt my face flame up in red and I realized that I had crossed a line I couldn't look back from. "I'm not Domenico." I said again. I took the cap from off of my head, my hair falling down on my shoulders and back.

"He's a _woman_?" someone asked.

"Are you deaf?" I shouted. "I said _I'm not Domenico!_" I screamed, tears stinging at my eyes. Where had Ezio gone? Mario? Messer da Vinci?

"You're a woman!" someone shouted, angered. I felt that same fear I had felt when I was with Ezio before the match. I hopped over the fence and started running shakily.

_You're not Domenico._

I began to shed my covers as well as my tears, sprinting through the streets. Bystanders looked at me strangely. I felt myself tearing into pieces.

_You're not Domenico._

The wind whipped around my face, sending my hair almost straight backwards. I felt so free, but trapped at the same time. I was at the city gates by now. I looked around, and mounted the first horse I saw. I turned it around and yelled at it to go.

_You're not Domenico._

The horse beneath me rode fast. It was a young mare, black as pitch and strong as a bull. She rode with a grace I knew I didn't have. I drove her on harder, harder. Tears streamed out my eyes, and I didn't know how long it had been before I'd stopped, gotten off the horse, and slapped its rump to get it back to Monteriggioni.

_You're not Domenico._

I sat down behind a rock, in the most pain I'd ever been in my entire life. My body ached like it was dying. My heart ached at the loss of Ezio.

Ezio. Ezio had done this. I heard myself sobbing, but I made no attempt to stop it. The sun was now beginning to fall. It was late in the afternoon. How long had I ridden? How far away from Monteriggioni? My mind kept straying back to Ezio and his frightening amber eyes. I wrapped my arms around my knees like I usually did when I was scared or upset, despite my protesting midsection.

Somewhere in the middle of that, I fell asleep. 


	10. Chapter 10

_Last one for a while, folks!_

**Disclaimer: AAHAHHHAAAH WHY THE FUCK DO WE DO THESE!!!?!?!?!?**

* * *

I had to blink myself out of thought for about ten seconds before I could finally register Lucy talking to me. "…hey, snap out of it. You're out of the Animus. It's time to go to bed." She said, shaking my arm. I nodded absently, my face blank and hollow. If I were in the right state of mind, I would've noticed that Desmond was gone from the bed by the window. I would've stopped brooding on a past that wasn't mine. I would've asked Shaun for a good book on encryption. Hell, I probably would've read Desmond's diary!

I got on the bed, exhausted. I felt the sheer terror and worry for Nora, all alone in the countryside, heartbroken and injured. How could Ezio have done that to me? No, to _her_? My mine was still broken as I collapsed on a pillow, sobbing. I covered my head with the other pillow provided, blocking out all of the fading light.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, but my body kept shaking. This was horrible. I knew who it was. It was Desmond. It was _always_ Desmond. "_Vattene!"_ I sobbed, not knowing I was speaking the Italian version of 'go away'.

"I'm not going anywhere. You need someone here." I could barely hear him over the muffling of the pillow. Another hand began to pull it away, and I had no choice but to let go.

"What do you want?" I asked softly.

"I want to help." His words rang in the air like a church bell. I couldn't find anything to say to him, and I just lay there, with my face in the pillow. Eventually, I had to breathe, so I twisted my head to the side. The lights were off, so I could only see a slight silhouette, sitting in the chair, holding a white pillow.

"How are you going to do that?" I asked. I got an image of what I remembered of his face, but all I could think of was Ezio. I mentally shook the thoughts from my mind.

"I'm here, because I had no one to be there for me. Hopefully it'll be easier for you." He said. "I'm just here to talk you to sleep, really. Once you fall asleep, I'll leave." He assured me, though it wasn't so much assuring as it was strange. First he was talking about helping me, but now he acts like it's just another assignment.

"How's your head?" I asked, suddenly remembering the days' events. I flipped over, sitting up a bit. I fought off the urge to yawn.

"Still a bit sore, but I'll live to see another day." I could hear him smile, something I could always pick out in a dark room.

"So what happened? Did anybody tell you about the—"

"Shh. I'm trying to get you to sleep, remember? Well, I had gotten a bit sidetracked in the field," he sounded like he'd stolen from the cookie jar. "And I got a bit reckless. I was tailed back to the house, and there was a bit of a surprise for me as I had to fight off a Templar agent who'd slipped into my room. Obviously, they know where we are, but they choose not to kill us because we have you." This statement troubled me, but I tried to focus on his next words instead. "So we fight a bit, I throw the punching bag at him, and he runs out the window, leaving his little mark of death. I try to rearrange the room as fast as I can, because I could hear Lucy with the Animus out there. Unfortunately, I went a bit too fast, and I went careening into the dresser." I smiled, laughing with a small cough. "And you? How was your day?" I was about to say, "You sound just like my mother" but thought otherwise.

"Oh, you know. The usual. Having to kick ass, break a few hearts. Oh wait, it's the other way around. Your ancestor is quite the douche bag." I commented, hoping he wouldn't pin me down and smother me with a pillow at that last comment. You never know.

To my surprise, he laughed. "It isn't so much douche-baggery as it is a monumental ego. Ezio thinks highly of himself, and won't back down from a fight, as you can see." Desmond said, seemingly relaxed.

"So when did you wake up?" I asked.

"About an hour after they put you in. I got a message from some of the higher-ups. They want to move you to a safer location."

"Does this mean jumping out of moving cars again?" I smiled. I was slightly worried about his safety, even if he said he was alright.

"Hopefully not. There was just a slight mix-up of who dropped you off, that's all." He paused. "How are you faring? This can't be easy for you."

When he asked that question, I finally started to think about how much my life had changed. I had no more car, no more home. No more family or college. No more friends or job. This was my job now. "I don't know." I whispered, thinking of my bed at home, burnt to a crisp by Templars.

The fact that they were trying to kill me didn't help. Why were they going to kill me? All I really am is a normal, lonely girl with an ancestor who sleeps with an assassin. Completely normal, right? But I had a feeling that there was a bigger picture. A hidden side to Nora's life that I hadn't seen yet, like Ezio or Domenico. I'd only been here three or four days. "Desmond?" I asked.

"Yes?"

"How long did it…take you to start…getting things?" I asked slowly and uncertainly.

"…about the time I started not wanting to go in the Animus." I pondered this for awhile, before he spoke up again. "In your file, I saw that you had more than one ancestor in the timeline, like me." He said it as a question, like I knew anything about it. I didn't. It was news to me.

"And what does that mean?"

"There's another timeline we'd have to look at." This meant more time in the Animus, I was sure. A thought of Subject 16 came to mind.

"How many ancestors did Subject 16 have?"

"Hundreds. From all eras. If he hadn't've died, I wouldn't be here, though." I could hear him look away. "But like Shaun said, you have nothing to worry about. There're safeguards we have in place, like the amount of time spent in the Animus and how much material we run by you. You're seeing nothing compared to what he went through." He sounded almost as if he were talking to himself.

"And you? How many ancestors do you have? That you've been, I mean." I corrected myself.

"About five, though there's no doubt there're more for me to find." He admitted. I could feel the intensity of his gaze on me, and I tried to meet it. I found it exceptionally challenging, because of the dark. What time was it?

"I'm gonna sleep now." I said, sinking back into the bed. I closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep, but I couldn't get the fact that he was in the room with me out of my head. I tried to breathe like I normally did, but I found that the silence between each breath was embarrassing. I couldn't even swallow properly.

Then it happened. I slept.

I woke up and Desmond was gone. There was a note on top of the clothes today. It said 'go straight to the Animus'. No breakfast today, then. I changed and exited the room, going to the Animus as I was instructed. Lucy and Rebecca were rushing around in a flurry of motion, checking one thing on one computer and tinkering with the Animus some. Shaun was seemingly motionless, sipping his tea as usual. "What's going on?" I asked. I didn't see Desmond in the room.

"Since we now have a deadline, we have to make this run faster. We're fast-forwarding you a year, Nora is in Venice, from what I know. She's with Ezio, that's another thing." Shaun said. He finished his tea and sat at his computer. "Just take a seat." He called. I walked over to the Animus, where Lucy was reconnecting the HUD to the chair. Rebecca nearly stabbed me with the needle, and I felt myself slip away without another word.

The world sprung up around me faster than last time, building itself at incredible speed.

* * *

(Just relax, and concentrate.) Desmond's voice rang through my head. Had he slipped in as I was being violently drugged?

I willed myself to concentrate, and become Nora once again.

"Ezio! What happened this time?" he stumbled into the rented two-story apartment, bloody and beaten.

"Brutes." He slurred, spitting out blood and the shard of what I hoped to be just a tooth. "About ten or twelve of them."

"Another mission from _Il Magnifico_?" I asked. He didn't answer, so I assumed it was a yes. But Ezio was getting reckless, like something was on his mind. I sighed loudly and got out a wet cloth. Since we were no longer with Messer da Vinci, we didn't have as much supplies, or money, though Ezio frequently rode in to Monteriggioni for his weekly income of 10,000 florins. 500 went to rent, 100 went to food, 5,000 went to repairing Ezio's armor, and the rest seemed to just…disappear. I once asked Ezio about it, but he suddenly got very defensive and angry.

"I'm sorry. We're tight on money, and Lorenzo's jobs always pay, though I'm running out of things to do for him." He said, worried.

"Well, we could find somewhere cheaper to stay." I said, looking around. I was silent, pursing my lips as I cleaned off dried blood from his body. What I really meant was "Why don't you use that money you always disappear with?" and Ezio knew it, though he didn't show it.

"This place is fine. I'll go rob some banks in a while." He said. I looked over at the lone lemon sitting on the table, and pondered how good it would feel to squeeze its contents all over Ezio's fresh wounds. I forgot about it when Ezio took hold of my hand.

"I believe this wound is clean." He said, moving my hand to a different spot. He was right; I had nearly rubbed his skin raw. "You seem very distracted." He said. I didn't meet his gaze, instead concentrating on the wound.

"I'm not distracted. I'm considering bashing you over the head with a chair if you don't stop acting like a child." I said in a low, neutral voice. I pulled Ezio's shirt back into place, pinching the slashed fabric that had been damaged in combat. Another thing I'd have to fix.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing." He said sarcastically, leaning back in the chair he was sitting in. I resisted the urge to knock the chair over. I stayed quiet, sitting up straight, like I had been taught to as a child. Ezio saw my tense silence and sat up, his eyes filled with a clouded emotion I couldn't place. "Nora? Are you alright?" he asked, resting his hand over mine.

"Why are you gone so much? You're always gone, and you tell me to stay here, all day. And the money…" I could feel myself choking up a bit, but I ignored it. "You spend over half of it on something I'm not even allowed to ask about!" I said, my voice getting higher and higher.

"Nora, I—"

"Ezio, are you seeing someone else?" I asked outright. It had always been a thought in my head, ever since we'd gotten together so long ago. Every second he was gone was a second he could be spending with a cheap whore, or a rich countess. Every second I spent worrying about him was a second that I could be drawing, or doing something productive. Instead, I felt sick to my stomach every day, and I couldn't eat more than a piece of fruit without feeling revolted at myself.

"Nora, no—"

"Is that it? Am I not good enough for you?" I asked harshly, tears forming in my eyes. "Am I less than a cheap whore? Or any _puttana_ on the streets?" I asked, shaking my head. The shaggy, dirty locks waved around me. I could feel my nose sting and my eyes puff up.

"Nora, will you just listen to me!" he shouted, standing up. I looked up at him, tears finally falling from my eyes. He pulled me up to him. "I'm trying to tell you." He said into my hair. I wanted nothing else but to shove him away and go take a bath on the roof, but I couldn't. My body was frozen. "I'm not seeing anyone else but you, _amore mio_. I've been gone so much and using so much money because I want a better life for you—for both of us." He seemed to pull me closer, though we were already touching. "Nora, I love you. You're quite possibly the only woman in the world that can make me smile like you make me. You make me happy, and there's nothing you can't do for me. I want you to know that, okay?" I nodded, shocked that he had spoken so many words at once. He'd barely spoken to me after he'd found me in the countryside over a year ago.

He pulled me back from him. The only light in the room was from the dying sun and the candle on the table behind me, casting only a bit of his face in light. I was always stunned at how handsome he was, but I'd never seen him like this. I felt my fingers twitch for a piece of chalk, as a natural instinct. But I'd hadn't drawn in so long, and we simply didn't have the money for it. Ezio smiled, turning me around. "I want you to have this." He whispered in my ear, pulling my hair back.

Something cold went over my neck. I looked down, but all I could see was a bit of silver. "What is it?" I asked. He laughed aloud, turning me back around.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice portraying a slight level of offense. "It's a necklace, you silly _femmenuccia_!" a necklace? But why? "I got you this as well." He said, pulling out a large parcel I hadn't noticed. He handed it to me, and I turned to the table, unwrapping the brown paper.

A shock of blue stared out at me, with a pearly white mask resting atop it. I set the delicate-looking mask aside and pulled out the beautiful, shimmering fabric, which molded itself into a dress in front of me. It was beautiful, with tiny bells and sequins embroidered into the details. There were intricate black roses all around the hem at the bottom, and I noticed the black roses on the mask as well. A pair of shoes was hidden beneath the dress, and I examined them with a careful eye. I finally shed my skin of indifference and I turned around to Ezio, my eyes gleaming. "What's this all for?" I asked.

"It's _Carnevale_. Will you go with me tomorrow?" he asked.

"Why are you asking, Ezio?" I asked, rushing forward and catching his lips in mine. "Of course I'd go!" I said, smiling so hard it hurt. He spun me around in the air, my feet tipping over a cup in the process. Luckily, it had been empty, but I still told him to put me down.

I'd hadn't left the house in three or four days, really, because of all the work I was doing on it. Originally, the rent was 1,000 florins for a week, and I managed to bribe the landlord into lowering the price if I renovated the entire place. It was a dump when we had gotten it, with leaking walls, holes in the roof, and bad plumbing, but I knew how to fix all of these things once Ezio told me how to. He only had a few moments to explain what to do, usually leaving a note whenever something was complicated, and I got it done by the time he got back from the day. The house had come fully furnished, and I even threw in fixing the furniture. With all of these renovations, we were set on 500 florins. The lazy bastard wasn't happy, but he was satisfied. And so were we. As long as I kept a visible progress and Ezio kept bringing money, we were okay.

"Ohh, I haven't been to _Carnevale_ since I was a little girl!" I said, spinning around in an imaginary dress. The necklace swayed against my chest. I remembered lots of colors and music, and the performers were interesting but slightly frightening. It was like a dream I'd had long ago.

"Then we will make it a night to remember." Ezio said, catching my hand and spinning me to him. "I trust you know how to dance?"

The world flashed white and I was pulled forward.

"Ezio, is this why you were hiding all of the money?" I said, swishing my dress around. It was the color of my eyes, hidden behind the mask tied to my head by twine dyed blue as well. The shoes were beautiful but comfortable, something that usually didn't go together.

"Yes. And you look stunning. I might have to stand in front of you all night." He said, stealing looks at the other men gawking on the side of the street. We were walking down to San Trovaso Square, where most of the dancing and entertainment was, according to Ezio.

In all of the years I'd lived in Venice, I'd only gone to _Carnevale_ once, and that was when my family was still alive. When Venice was still alive. Don't get me wrong, Venice will never die, but things…happen when a man like my father dies. The city was in anguish, when he died of plague, along with my mother. I was taken in by many people, only to be handed off to another family. I was the city's orphan, to be raised by everyone. Then, when I was sixteen, I started a job modeling for artists. I would hold still for hours in ridiculous poses, wearing barely anything, if it meant a bed and food.

Ezio had changed out of his robes for the night, using some of Antonio the Thief King's clothes for _Carnevale_. I had to admit, they suited him well. He was wearing tight black pants, with a charcoal-black tunic made of the softest material I had ever felt. His shoes were his normal brown leather boots, and his mask was white and black, with stripes over the eyes. It tied with a cinch on the side. He held onto my arm like I was going to try to slip away. I wasn't going anywhere.

Although Ezio had left his robes and larger weapons back at the house, I knew he was hiding four throwing knives in his boots, his hidden blade beneath the billowy tunic, and a dagger strapped to his leg, hidden also by the boot. "Why is it such a long walk to the Square?" he muttered as a long, suggestive whistle was given at my back. I pulled him closer to me, and rested my head on his shoulder.

"Calm down, _caro mio_. It's the Carnival. Everyone can be who they aren't." I said, waving at a group of girls sitting around a bench. I could see they were eyeing Ezio. "Is it just me or am I suffering the same problem as you?" I asked, making him laugh.

"Maybe we should both relax. Dance a bit." I could hear the music get louder and louder with each step we took.

"Surely dancing will get them off of our minds." I remarked, lacing my fingers between his.

"Surely yours, but I'm still going to have a little talk with those guys after—"

"You'll do no such thing." I scolded in a whisper. "Subtlety, Ezio, subtlety."

He scoffed, and we finally entered the square.

All around us were banners and streamers. Fireworks popped in the distance, all red and blue and gold. Stands were set up, selling masks and souvenirs. Couples danced in unison all throughout the area, stepping and turning in time with the music. "So, come on!" I said, dragging Ezio out. I could feel the back of my dress rise a couple of inches off the ground. I wonder how Ezio had done it. I hadn't been to a tailor since we first entered the city, when I had to get more clothes for living, seeing as I only had one shirt, one pair of pants, and a ratty pair of boots that were falling apart at the seams.

Ezio grudgingly agreed to dance, though I could see through his mask of smug embarrassment that he was enjoying it. We drank some wine being offered by a merchant stand, and we danced for about an hour until Ezio's calling came. "_Signore e signori! _Attention, please! The Games of Carnevale are about to start!" I could see his ear twitch in anticipation; I knew he'd been in the games before, and won.

"You want to go?" I asked. He nodded, smiling that helpless smile I knew had been coming. "Come on." I said, pulling him closer to the man orchestrating the events. Suddenly, we were separated, and I couldn't see where he had gone. "Ezio?" I asked, spinning around. I came face-to-face with a scary-looking man.

"Excuse me, _belissima_." He said, before slipping a bag over my head.

I was bound behind my back, and gagged through the bag. It tasted like stale olives. I kicked and screamed as they carried me further and further away from the music, away from Ezio. Where was I going. "Let me go!" I shouted through the gag. Someone must've heard me by now. Between breaths, I could catch sounds of the ocean growing louder. Were they going to throw me in the ocean? I didn't know how to swim! I started screaming louder.

"Calm down, girl. You'll be fine. It's all for the Carnevale games." One of them said. I was shoved into a cage, a small one, only a little bit bigger than me. Something clicked shut and was locked. I tore the bag off as I began to be lifted off of the ground. I gasped aloud, gripping the cage tighter as I was suspended over the ocean by crane. With every motion I made, the cage rocked sickeningly. My breaths became short and shallow. "Just scream really really loud, and you won't drown!" one of the men said from below me.

"You bastards put me _down_!" I shrieked. I must've been fifty feet in the air, dangling for my life. The cold metal of the cage was impossible to break free from. The men just laughed. A cold breeze from the west blew through, shaking the cage. I screamed in fear. The men laughed harder.

"You don't have to start screaming just yet." One of the men shouted. Where was everyone? The citizens? "Your rescue is the last game." My rescue? This was just a game? What did they mean by rescue? I leaned back against the cage, trying to think straight, but I couldn't get the image of the choppy seas underneath me out of my head. "Once the church bell rings by the starting point, you'll see what we mean."

I tried to stand upright, but I couldn't hold myself up any longer. I collapsed to the bottom of the cage, sobbing. I could _die._ What if Ezio didn't win? I could drown and he wouldn't be able to save me. "Oh, don't cry." One of them said, not comforting in the least. "We're just doing our job."

I waited at the bottom of the cage, waiting for the bell to toll for me. I looked up at the top of the cage: it was secured, albeit loosely, to a rope connected to a crane. The crane was different from anything I'd seen before. I couldn't describe it—it was too strange.

"The bell should be ringing in about five minutes, _belissima_." I stood up in the cage. It was cold, I was scared half to death, and Ezio was far, far away from me. What was I going to do if he'd been eliminated? I'd be saved by some stupid boy, most likely, trying to show off to his friends. I wiped the tears from my eyes, praying to God that I would survive.

_Dong…Dong…Doooooong…_

The bells rang, and the men yelled for me to start screaming. "_Aiuto!_" I yelled as loud as I could. Something underneath me shook, and I looked down. Nothing was wrong, but I screamed louder still. "Somebody help me! Get me out of this thing!" I said. The entire cage jumped around me, and I shrieked in terror. I looked up. The rope was getting longer above me.

They were lowering me into the ocean. "Please! No! I'll do anything, just let me go!" I yelled at them, as I sank closer and closer to the ocean. I started hitting the door to the cage, and I saw that the door had been locked shut with a chain. "Help! Help! They're trying to kill me!"

"Nora?!" something far off yelled. My heart leapt in my throat. Ezio? "Nora!" it said again. There was no doubt about it—it was Ezio.

"Ezio, get me out of here!" I shouted, hitting the cage even more. The closer I got to the ocean (I was about thirty feet away from it now) the windier it got. The cage swayed back and forth on the rope, and I barely saw a silhouette in the distance, racing and jumping over rooftops. "Ezio!" I screamed as the image was covered by the rooftops. I felt dizzy. "Help me!" I screamed, feeling sick to my stomach. I shot my most vicious glare at the men watching. "When I get out of this thing, I'm going to kill you! Do you understand me, I'm going to rip off your _coglioni_ and make you eat them, you _rottinculi_! I'm going to slap you so hard, your grandfathers are going to turn over in their graves, _DO YOU HEAR ME?!" _I shouted at them. They seemed to slink away, running away from me and sprinting down the street.

The entire time I was cursing at them, I hadn't noticed that I was slipping into the water. I finally noticed this when the water seeped up around my feet, and I started screaming even more. "Ezio! Please! I can't swim!" I screamed as the water got to my ankles.

Ezio burst in out of nowhere, shouting and puffing. He dove into the water just as it hit my knees. "No—" he shouted, getting cut off by the water. He reached me in a few seconds, treading water to keep himself upright. "Nora, just stay calm. You're going to be alright." He said, fiddling with the locks with a throwing knife he'd gotten from his boot.

"Ezio, I'm sorry, I didn't know this was going to happen, I'm sorry." I said, reaching for his sleeve as he fought and cursed at the lock. The water was at my waist now. I couldn't feel my feet.

"Nora, stop." He said, popping the lock open. I let out a sigh of relief, but I spoke too soon.

A great, sickening _snap_ came from above me, and I had barely a second to realize what had happened before I was plunged into the water, half a breath still caught in my throat. I began struggling to open the door, but I found it was too heavy for me. _No, no, no!_

A great flash of white threw open the gate, and started tugging me out. I felt a sick realization that my dress was caught in the snarled metal, and I tried to tell Ezio, only making me lose air rapidly. Meanwhile, the cage was still sinking at a fast pace, due to it being made of cast-iron. I could practically hear the fabric tearing as Ezio cut it with his hidden blade. I was out of breath. On instinct and reflex alone, I took a deep breath in—only to be strangled by water. The icy liquid rushed into my lungs, making me spasm and motion for Ezio to take me back up.

My legs didn't seem to be working, nor did my arms. They only seemed to keep me in the same place in the ocean. Ezio nearly yanked my arms out of my body when he pulled me up towards the surface. I started feeling sick and dizzy. I could feel the water displace from his powerful legs and propel us up.

I didn't make it to the surface.

* * *

_Okay, I'm going to be away for a month. A month. 29 days, exactly, but still._

_Review, and I will be happy.  
_


	11. Chapter 11

_Oh my God, you have no IDEA how awesome I feel to be updating my two favoritist stories in the WOOOORLD!_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed. Those French (no offense) bastards do.**

**WARNING: RAPE RAPE RAPE VIOLENCE VIOLENCE VIOLENCE  
**

* * *

"What the hell was _that_?" I gasped as I was taken out of the Animus. I sat up too quickly, making blood rush to my head. It felt like someone was pounding on the back of my skull with a hammer.

"Come over here. We have this recorded from Ezio's memory, and this is basically what happens." Rebecca said, motioning me forward. I half-walked, half-limped over to the computer where she was waiting. "We'll put you right back in, so don't get comfortable." I nodded, though she didn't see.

An image of a diamond with an exclamation point in it was flashing on the white desktop, a loading symbol, I assumed. "It'll take a few seconds to load—it's an hour of memory for fifty megabytes." That explained the servers lining the walls. They were really hard disks—or refrigerators. Finally the video began to play back.

We were looking through Ezio's eyes, pointed upward at the surface of Italy. He broke the surface, pulling a limp body up beside him. "Nora!" he shouted, shaking her. She didn't respond, only slipped into the ocean some.

"Is she—?" I asked, covering my mouth with my hands. I couldn't be dead. Nora couldn't be dead yet.

"No. Watch. Wait." Ezio was swimming back to shore with Nora, and when he got there, he hauled her onto the docks, doing all the things you'd do to check if someone was alive. He checked for breathing, and pulse. He breathed into her lungs, and beat on her chest. It wasn't as efficient as today's CPR, but it did the trick. Nora began to sputter and cough up water, breathing in deep and looking around, frightened. The video clicked off and the white desktop resumed. "Okay. Back in you go." Rebecca said. I exhaled sharply, feeling uncomfortable around the machine. I wanted to take a shower. I nodded and did as she said.

"Rebecca…she doesn't look so good…" I did, indeed, feel queasy. I shook my head at Desmond's comment.

"I'm fine." I said, laying back on the Animus. Rebecca gave me a quick glance before sticking the needle in me once more. I drifted off into the white.

Muffled words were being exchanged in the Loading Room. I knew it was between Desmond and Lucy, by the way his voice was the lowest of the five of us, and Lucy's was the highest. I could really tell what Shaun had meant by 'emotional support'. Desmond was in charge of my welfare as well as my security.

(Should I put her in?) Rebecca's voice asked, a little far off. She was facing away from her computer.

(Just do it. They could keep this up for hours.) Shaun's voice said clearly. I remembered seeing an earpiece that he kept on a charger when I was out of the Animus. That must've been how he communicated with me. (Don't think about it, just do it.) He said.

(Fine. If Lucy bites my head off later, it's your fault…)

* * *

And suddenly, I was coughing up water from my lungs. I kept coughing as hard as I could, until I could breathe in. I was on a wooden surface. It was cold. I was very, very cold, and wet, and shivering. I coughed again, only to be squeezed tightly to a warm chest. "Thank God you're alright." Ezio whispered from atop me. I couldn't seem to think straightly past the thought of 'he is so _warm'_.

"Can you stand up?" he asked. I shook my head, unable to speak. "I think we should go home." He said, scooping me up in his arms. His mask had fallen off in the ocean, but I still had mine secured tight around my head. With a shaky hand, I took it off. Surprisingly, I still had my shoes on, and the only thing marring my outfit was the water damage. Ezio's shirt was all askew, and his boots were uneven. His hair-tie had been lost in the ocean as well as his mask, making his hair hang around his face, like I loved it to.

"I spoke to Leonardo a couple of days ago. He misses you, and hopes you'd come back to Monteriggioni." Ezio said. This surprised me; Ezio had never told me of his travels to Monteriggioni, with the exception of an occasional update of his mother and sister.

"M-mess-ss-ss-sser da Vinc-c-c-c-ci?" I asked, stuttering because of the cold.

"Yes. He wants to see you sometime." He said, not looking down at me. I felt him take a turn, and we crossed a bridge slowly. "Why do you do that?" he asked. What?

"W-wuh-what do you mean?"

"Why do you call him Messer da Vinci and not Leonardo, like I do?" he asked. I looked down at my hands. I'd never noticed that before.

"I don't know. I grew up calling him that, I guess, purely out of respect for elders. He's a decade older than me!" I said, warming up to Ezio. How did he generate so much heat? I smiled a little. "Why don't you call him that?"

"I met him when I was seventeen, a couple of days before my father and brothers were executed." He adjusted his grip on me. Ezio was never comfortable talking about his past life, or his deceased kin. He would get all somber, and reclusive. I put a hand on his shoulder. "My mother introduced him to me." With every word, he was shutting down—his voice growing into a monotone. "We became the best of friends, and…I don't know. I wouldn't call it a friendship. It's more of a mutual relationship. He helps me decode Codex pages, and…I don't really do anything for him." He became very tense, and aware of where he was. We were walking past his old workshop, a monument we couldn't not pass on the way home.

"If you want to do something for him, all you have to do is ask." I said, leaning my head against his chest. It was so different from the armor he wore—I could hear his heartbeat. It was beating steadily, and it lulled me into a tired, feelingless state.

"Nora, we're home." He said, shaking me a little. I nodded sleepily and got out of his arms, leaning against a wall. The wine was catching up to me. He unlocked the door with a key we kept on top of the doorjamb, and led me in. I stumbled my way down the stairs, while Ezio locked the door. "Are you tired?" he asked, suddenly behind me.

"Mmmm." I said, leaning into him.

(Desmond, Shaun, you know the drill.)

(But it's _dark_!)

(Just shut up, Shaun. Go drink your tea.)

We had forgotten to light a candle on our return, so the entire apartment was shrouded in black, save for the light of the full moon streaming in through the window. Ezio was _so_ warm…

"You're going to catch plague if you sleep in that dress." He said, smiling. I couldn't see him, but I could hear him smiling. I felt him twist me around, undoing the buttons to the dress with slow, gentle hands. As the dress became more and more undone, he left trails of kisses over my exposed flesh, making me shiver, but not from the cold. His hands ghosted over my bare arms, and I turned around, suddenly not tired anymore.

"You'll catch plague if you sleep in those clothes." I said, tilting my head to the side. I felt him lean down to kiss me, but I stretched my neck to the right, making him kiss my neck. I felt him smile. I stood on tiptoe, and I felt around blindly to find where the strings holding his tunic in place were. I felt the tip of my finger find one, and I reached back, pulling slowly until the bow was undone. I took the hems of his shirt and tugged it over his head, discarding it to the side.

By now, my vision had adjusted to the darkness, and I could see the vague outline of his body, his muscles, and his face. Now I could see that he was smiling, grinning, actually, and his teeth shone in the dark. I could feel the waistline of my dress sliding slowly across my hips, and I closed the space between us, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him as he stooped down to do the same. I felt his hot hands on my back, caressing it in circles with his thumbs.

Okay, when I said that I wasn't tired anymore, I was lying. Between the lateness of the night, Ezio's warm body, and the bed only a short distance away, I was ready to just collapse into sleep. I went to bed every night early, before Ezio came home (if he came home). "No. We shouldn't. You will get sick if you don't get some rest." He said. I'd almost thought I'd only imagined it, but I was being led to the bed.

"I'm sorry." I said, yawning some. I could feel the bed depress when Ezio lay down beside me.

"Don't be." He said, pulling me close to him. "You're all I need."

The world flashed white as I fell asleep. (You're allowed back in now…)

(Why is it that you're allowed to watch them have sex, and we're not? Des, back me up on this!)

(…one, they're more mature about it that you are. Two, would you want your coworkers watching you have ancestral sex with other coworkers' ancestors?)

(… #!*% .)

When I woke up, Ezio was still there, asleep, bathed in early morning light from the open window. I smiled. His hair needed to be brushed. Ignoring my nudity, I flipped over, getting my hairbrush off of the table by the bed. Gently, I took a lock of his hair, and raised the brush. "What are you doing?" he asked, eyes still closed. I smiled, caught.

"Brushing your hair." I said, resuming my action, by slowly getting knots out of the clump of hair I had in my hand. "It's a mess. I'm going to brush your hair every week if it means you come home." I said, finishing with the shiny lock I had in my hand.

"Mmm. I feel so lazy. Don't stop." He said, smiling that smile that makes my heart skip. I could only oblige.

I got through his entire head of hair before I realized that it needed to be washed. I told him this and he laughed. "Always perfection with you, Nora." He rolled over. "I don't want to get out of bed…" he whined. I lay on top of his bare chest, feeling it rise and fall in time with his breaths.

"I love your heartbeat." I said, listening to it for awhile.

"Can I brush your hair?" he asked, looking around for the hairbrush.

"I brushed it last night." I said, smiling.

"But the water and the wind messed it up." He pointed out, sitting up. I was forced to as well, agreeing with his statement. He grabbed the hairbrush and made me spin around. I felt him raise it up by my scalp, but I stopped him.

"Start by the tips, and work your way up." I instructed. Ezio did as I said, working gently and slowly. It was relaxing, feeling my hair become free of snarls and kinks.

When he was done, he leaned toward my ear. "Your hair is beautiful." He whispered. I smiled, twisting in his direction, leaving a small kiss on his lips. I got up off the bed, grabbing a nearby dress from off the floor. I shimmied it on, struggling with the buttons that held it up. Ezio was suddenly there, buttoning without another word.

"Thank you, Messer Ezio." I said, curtsying in his direction. He stood up gallantly, bowing low, almost to my knees. The whole thing was done in a rather awkward manner, as both of us were still asleep and Ezio was missing his shirt. He stood up straight after that, and we both burst out laughing at the same time.

Three knocks in quick succession ended our laughter. Ezio disappeared into another room, to put on his robes, most likely, leaving me to answer the door. I walked over, straightening my skirt out before I opened it.

A messenger dressed in red stood in front of the door, looking nervous and shifty. "Yes?" I asked.

"Are you Nora Titanimo?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. I nodded, and he motioned for me to come closer. I did. "I have a message from…someone." He said. I looked around, making sure no one was looking.

"Give it here." I said, holding out my hand. The messenger thrust an envelope into my hand, and bolted away. I stared after him for about two seconds before I closed the door quickly and tore open the letter.

_Your safety is in danger. You must get out of _Venezia_. There is a price on your head—10,000 florins. Over seven bounty hunters have agreed to the job—but you're safe as long as you're in the company of the assassin. _Firenze_ is the safest place to go—seek out help from The Fox. Be safe, my child._

I looked down the street, at the fading red dot. Could I catch up to him? I made the decision that I could, and I took off, barefoot, down the streets of Venice. "You! Stop!" I yelled, pushing through people. Some early risers looked at me oddly. I thought quickly. What was the most effective way to stop a man in Venice? "THIEF!" I shouted, pointing directly at the man in red.

Immediately, three guards on patrol and a handful of young men sprang to life. They darted down the street, and pulled him down from the ladder he was attempting to climb. I caught up as they were beginning to drag him away. "Let my brother go, please. I'll give him to my mother." I said, and the guards left without another word. The younger men, none of them seeming to be over 17, weren't pleased, but let him go a moment later. I crooked a finger at the man, and I held a firm grip on his scrawny forearm. "Who did that letter come from?" I hissed.

"I don't know, I just picked it up this—"

"Don't lie to me, dog. _Who did it come from?_"

"I don't know, please let me go!" he cried, close to sobbing.

"Tell. Me." I said, squeezing his arm even harder.

"I don't know! All I saw was a man in a red robe, and he said your name and handed me a lot of money!" he was actually crying now, and I sighed, frustrated.

"What did this man look like?" the blubbering messenger shook his head, his lip trembling. "I'll let you go if you tell me."

"He was a big man, with a scar across his eye. Scary." Said the messenger. I turned him loose, and walked back to the apartment, clutching the paper.

Ezio was just strapping on his bracer when I walked in. He had on a strange mask over his nose and mouth, only revealing his eyes. I must've looked stricken. "Nora? What happened? Where did you go? Who was at the door? Why do you look so pale?" he asked, putting a hand to my head. His voice sounded strange. "You haven't got a fever…" I held out the paper. He read it quickly.

"The messenger said the sender had a scar across his eye." We looked each other in the eye, and Ezio shook his head.

"I don't know." He tossed the paper to the side. I thought he'd guess it would be his Uncle Mario, but I guess I didn't know him as well as I'd thought.

"Who else would send it? Who else would end it, 'be safe, my child'?" I asked, flustered. I sat down in a chair at the table. Ezio was still pacing. "Maybe I should go to Florence." I mumbled, burying my face in my arms.

"Nora, no. Whoever the sender is, they're right. But only some. You're safest with me. Florence…has not been a happy place, _bella_. Where would we stay?"

"Lorenzo lives in Florence. We can seek him out. I can get a job. And you can look for this…this Fox person." I said, scheming. But Ezio was right. I would sooner go to Sicily than I would to Florence.

"No. I've met _la Volpe_, and he's not the kind of person you'd want looking out for you. He's unreliable, he's a cutthroat, and—"

"Sounds just like you, so what's the difference?" I said before I could shut my mouth. Ezio's eyes went dark, and he gathered up himself to his full height, making me feel very small and afraid. "Ezio, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—I, I, please, no, I wasn't—" he took a step towards me, and I became very, very afraid. This reminded me of the incident in Monteriggioni, when I'd discovered Ezio's moonlighted appearance.

"Nora…" he said, his strange voice surprisingly sing-song, like everything was just a game. But the frightening amber had crawled back into his eyes, like a demon being unleashed. The door was only a short distance away. I could make it. I just needed a distraction. But Ezio's eyes were locked onto mine, and he wasn't going to look away anytime soon.

What had happened to the Ezio that had saved me last night? The Ezio that had danced with me, who had bought me the beautiful dress, lying on the floor? Where had that man gone? I wanted him back. And soon, before something bad happened.

(We should pull her out before things get ugly.) I couldn't recognize the voice over my rising fear.

(That's it. We're done for today.) Ezio raised a hand up, and he brought it down hard. I cried out in pain, falling back against the wall, my feet giving way.

(What's going on? Get her out!) another burst of pain, this time spiking all throughout my scalp. He was pulling me up by my hair. He tossed me on the bed, so that I was face-down.

(I don't know. Everything seems to lock into this memory. The only way I can pull her out is if I reboot the system, and she could die if I do that.)

Ezio began fiddling with his equipment, and my eyes widened indescribably.

( #!*% , Rebecca, get her _out_.)

I finally began to struggle, attempting to scramble off the bed and for the door. But Ezio took hold of my hair again, and pulled me back, pinning me to the bed now.

(This isn't good, this isn't good…)

Everything passed by in a blur of pain, tears, and hair-pulling. Ezio slammed into me, making me scream in pain. He pinned my hands down by my sides so I couldn't move. There was a great crash and then—

(Finally.)

I was in the white room for the shortest time.

(Desmond, you should leave.)

(What? Why?) And then I was in the present.

* * *

I felt my fists unclench as my mind became my own, slower this time. Undistinguished voices were all around me, and I felt a hand touch my shin. I flinched, and my vision sharpened.

Ezio was here. He was here, right in front of me, with his animalistic eyes, trying to get me again.

I screamed.

* * *

_Hmm, I can't explain the #!*% thing going on here, it must have something to do with my internet security. Enjoy this double update, my lovelies/homies! (Danny Wallace joke)_


	12. Chapter 12

_Here and back again, NOW READ._

**DC: Stiiill don't own it.**

_

* * *

I screamed._

Scrambling out of the chair, I darted for the door, thinking I could outrun him. I heard footsteps behind me. "Help!" I shouted. "He's trying to hurt me!" I screamed, though there was no one there. I took a sharp turn down the stairs, where I kept turning corners until I got lost.

Solitude is divine, especially in my position. I hyperventilated for twenty minutes, clutching a pocketknife I had found, before somebody came close to finding me. I was squished between two stacks of crates towering above me. Tears were running freely down my face. I was anticipating the return of Ezio, anticipating the pain. I started to mumble songs to myself.

"_Satellite, satellite, are you stupid? You shot the pictures through the earth. All the people on the earth, they shot through it, in the hope they'd disappear…satellite, satellite, we weren't ready to prove the time was now or near. All the people on the earth, we felt lonely, in the hopes you'd find someone who cared…"_

I didn't remember the rest of the song, so I kept repeating it, eventually, my voice got louder and louder, higher and more anxious. I was soon sobbing the lyrics.

"I found her!" a voice said from the end of the crates. They crawled forward, but I wasn't looking. I just had my pocketknife brandished outwards, so I could just thrust forward at the person in front of me. "You want to give me that knife?" they asked. I heard more voices, more footsteps. I looked up, straight into the face of Ezio. I let out a bloodcurdling shriek and threw the knife at him, darting out of my crawlspace.

I was captured by two people, both of them holding my arms out. They began to drag me upstairs, with me crying and screaming and kicking the whole time.

I vaguely recollected being set in a bed and calmed down by a soothing voice I couldn't understand. I fell asleep, to no dreams at all.

I woke up the next morning with Shaun, asleep in the chair by the bed. I sat up, reaching for the clock. It was early in the morning. Then I realized.

Shaun was asleep.

I felt my mouth drop open as I tried to comprehend what was happening. He was _asleep_? How did this happen? I didn't know what to do. I felt my fingers twitch in silence. What? What did that mean? I felt my eyes draw to the bedside table, where there was a pad of paper and a pen on it. The paper had some writing on it—in Shaun's handwriting. I uncapped the pen and hovered over the paper. I sat in silence. What was I doing? I sucked at drawing. "Might as well." I said, putting the pen on the paper.

About an hour had passed before Shaun sensed that someone was awake. I had already been well done with the picture, and I had set it down on the table. I had curled up into a tiny ball, my eyes staring unblinkingly at the door, waiting. Anticipating. I was so scared, I wasn't even following my own rules.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly. I felt him sit forward.

"Fine." I said in a whisper. "It…it felt so _real_. I...I don't know what to think, I don't know what to feel, I don't even know if I want to go back."

"There were some broken memories that we weren't able to recover from Desmond when he was in the Animus." I felt my spirit leap at the mention of Desmond. "They must've been so repressed by Ezio," I flinched. "That they were eventually too far gone to recover." Shaun's words were confusing, but I understood them.

"I can feel why." I said in a clipped tone. "Have you seen any of this happen with other people?" I asked, curious.

"No. We didn't even know that Ezio was capable of…" he didn't finish his sentence. "Um. Desmond wants to see you, but you reacted badly the last time…when you were getting out of the Animus, and then after…" I could tell he was grasping for words. "Do you think you're up to it?"

"Sure." I said, desperately wanting to see Desmond. I hid this through my indifferent voice. The truth was, I didn't know what I was going to see.

Shaun groaned and got up to his feet, popping the bones in his back. He took his clipboard as well, though not looking down at the hasty sketch I'd done. I was finally alone in the room, and I took a deep breath in, exhaling it slowly.

Finally Desmond walked in. Desmond, not Ezio. I felt a helpless smile of relief cross over my face when I saw that he wasn't morphing into…I banished the thought from my head. "You feeling better?" he asked, standing as far from me as he could in the room, his hands in his pocket.

"A bit. Oh my God, are you alright? I stabbed you!" I realized, my hands flying to my mouth. He let out a low chuckle, bringing his hand to his shoulder casually, scratching at a hidden scar.

"Just a scratch. You didn't hurt me." He said, his face darkening. "I wouldn't've let you go in if I'd've known why he had repressed it so far." He said, seeming to shrink further away. "I'm sorry. This is my fault."

I pulled away from the warmth of the bed, and I stood up, walking up to him until I was about two feet away. He looked totally in-control from this close, something I would never accomplish. I wondered what I looked like in his eyes: a scared young college girl, thrust into this strange world by fate. He breathed silently, though I could barely hear his exhales and I could see his chest move. I stared into his eyes, trying to see what he was thinking. His almost-metallic-colored eyes glinted in the dim lamplight. I felt myself holding my breath. For a second, I felt completely at home, swimming in his stare.

The moment came and went as a split-second image of Ezio impeded on my mind, and I gasped and stepped away slightly. Desmond returned in that same second, though Ezio's face was still in my mind. He stepped forward, reaching a hand out for my arm. He grabbed my elbow, gently, and pulled me toward him. I closed my eyes, blotting out tears in his gray sweatshirt. I felt so scared. He stroked my hair, with his chin over my head. So many a boyfriend had done this for me, but none of them ever made me feel as safe as Desmond did. He rocked me back and forth on our heels, just standing there, swaying.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered to my hair.

"It's not your fault, Desmond, it's no one's fault. If anything, I—" he pulled my chin up, a familiar move, but so different with Desmond. He leaned down, and my eyes fluttered shut.

His lips grazed mine, and I felt my fingers knot in his shirt. I breathed in his scent, warm and musky, and he pressed his lips closer, moving them slowly against mine. This was so _right_ that I didn't think anything was _wrong_ until I moaned, "Oh, Ezio."

Desmond sucked in a harsh breath, his lips turning to ice on mine. I felt his body stiffen, and pull away from my grip. It was as he was about to walk out that I said, "Stop, Desmond, please!"

Thankfully he did.

He didn't turn as I said, "I'm sorry. That wasn't…I mean, I'm…oh my gosh, I…" I was standing there babbling, and he was a statue. I could still feel his presence on me, around me. Desmond started to take a step out the door, but I rushed up and twisted him around by his sleeve. His eyes were elsewhere from me. I took his face in my hands, and held it close. "This is me."

And I kissed him.

Sweetly, powerfully, and passionately, I kissed him. I kissed him until he finally gave in and slithered his hands around to rest on my hips. I felt him breathe in powerfully, and he roughly pushed me away. I was confused. My eyes shot open. Desmond was staring me down lustfully, like I'd seen so many times on others' faces, but he was…pushing me away?

"What's…huh?" I asked. "Is it—oh my God are you with someone?" I became horrified at the thought of Lucy killing me in my sleep. I began pacing around the room, my hands knotting in my hair. "Oh my _God_, you're so stupid! He's fucking _with_ someone! **((is it just me or is that a **_**really**_** weird sentence?))** Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Desmond." I turned around, but he was gone, his name still on my lips. _He_ was still on my lips. This was killing me.

I sat on my bed for a couple of minutes. Then I remembered—the security cameras! Lucy, Rebecca, _anyone_ could see what had just happened! I dashed out of the room, and down the hall to the security office. I tapped a few keys to access the tapes, but they were gone. What? The entire couple of minutes that Desmond was in my room were gone. I covered my mouth with my hands. Oh no. Why was this happening? Where were the videos? I stood up from the chair and stalked into the kitchen. I saw Desmond and Lucy chatting by the coffee machine, and I stood up straighter, my eyes widening, and I said "oh" before walking out.

I found Shaun and Rebecca in the Animus room, typing away at their computers. Rebecca gave me a worried look when I sat down in the Animus. "Are you sure you want to go in…? I don't even know your name!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, I just need to escape from this world for awhile." I said, leaning back and sliding the HUD over my face. It usually mechanically slid into place, but I was impatient, not to mention hungry. Rebecca slid the needle into the familiar spot in the crook of my elbow, and the incredible whiteness took over as I saw two figures walk into the room.

(What the hell?) a voice, very faint, said.

(Her idea, not mine. She must be fully recovered from yesterday.)

(No, she's not. Pull her out.) it was Desmond.

"NO!" I shouted, and I became Nora.

* * *

At first, all I knew was pain. Then, all I was aware of was sound.

_Craaash!_ The door to another room burst open, and there was Ezio, standing there in his breeches and his undershirt, a dagger in hand. It took him a second to process what was happening before he let out a frightening roar, and tackled the doppelganger off of me. I scrambled away from the bed, into the corner, where I could barely see Ezio stabbing the man in his clothes many times. When it was over, he took off his shirt, scrubbed the blood off his face, and he came over to me. I could barely register it, but my body was aching all over.

Ezio got down on his knees and started crawling over to me, his eyes big and filled with tears. I stared at him, breathing loudly. Death and pain reeked in the air. I noticed Ezio still had some blood on the sides of his face. He pulled me closer to him, until I was sitting on his lap.

Then the strangest thing happened.

Ezio Auditore started to cry.

* * *

(Can't you get her out now? Please?)

(Desmond, she's doing the right thing. We're already behind schedule.) Lucy's voice rang through the loading screen. It was there that I noticed I was dressed like Nora.

(Desmond, you look like you could use some sleep, why don't you go to bed?) Another voice answered.

(Don't think that just because I'm not…) Desmond's voice trailed off until he disappeared from range.

(Are you doing okay in there?) Rebecca **((omg I'm so tired that I just wrote Rebecaca and I started laughing like a three-year-old))** asked.

"I'm good, just load me up."

The now-familiar surge of air passed through me and Nora's reality became my own.

* * *

About a week had passed since the incident, and Ezio had to go out and borrow more of Antonio's clothes until I mended his robes. The man who had attacked me was a bounty hunter, and Ezio disposed on him by chaining him to an anchor and dropping him in the deepest point of Venice.

I'd shown Ezio the note once we'd both calmed down, and he agreed with me, that I should go to either Florence or Monteriggioni. I shot down the idea of returning to Monteriggioni like a bird in the sky, though my face must've been forgotten by now. Ezio had tried to convince me of going there more than Florence, but I had made up my mind: I was staying with Ezio.

"I think you should seek out _la Volpe_, Nora. He's really…protective." I remember the imposter telling me he was a cutthroat and a murderer. I bit my lip.

"Do you trust him?" I asked. Ezio looked me in the eye.

"…yes."

The world flashed white, and I was on a boat, the mouth of the river Arno a little bit more than visible on the horizon. I had on a concealing headscarf, holding my hair and face away from the tumultuous Mediterranean waters. Ezio was wearing a new cape: a red one, with the Medici crest emblazoned across it in gold. I had fixed his robed and washed them of the foul-smelling blood as well.

"Are you sure he's going to be there?" I asked for about the seventeenth time since land had been visible.

Ezio laughed from next to me, though I hardly thought this was a time to be laughing. "_Bella mia,_ stop worrying yourself. I've told you before, I wrote ahead of time. Please, calm down. You're making _me_ worry." I was about to tell him he hardly looked the part when his arms slid around my waist, making me flinch away instinctively. Ezio looked hurt.

"I'm sorry, I…I didn't mean to, Ezio…" I apologized, trying to earn back the smile that was there a second ago. His face flushed briefly with anger, but calmed again once I rested my hand on his. "Look at me." I whispered, barely audible over the sea slapping at the sides of the ship. Ezio complied. "This isn't your fault. The fault it lies on is dead, and I am eternally grateful for that." I said, pulling Ezio closer. "I love you." I said to his chest, the fabric smelling like salt.

"Thank you for going to Florence. You'll be safe here." He said.

"_We'll_ be safe here." I said. Ezio had agreed that he would stay in _Firenze_ with me. He became tense.

"Of course." He whispered. He'd been tense the entire voyage, like he'd been sick, though I know he'd never been seasick in his life (he told me).

An hour later, we were getting off the ship, named the _Minerva_, and Ezio was hurriedly ushering me to the _Mercato Vecchio_. I heard the captain of the _Minerva_ shout to the crowds that the boat was leaving in a half-hour. He told me to keep my hand on my purse, for there were many thieves in this area.

"Now what?" I asked, looking up at the dark, menacing clouds overhead. I'd never been to Florence, but I knew this meant an imminent rain.

"Now we wait. The Fox is a very sneaky man, he must know we're here by now." He said, his eyes scanning the crowds inconspicuously.

"What will he look like?" I asked, looking around too.

"He never waits in the open, but he will send another man out to retrieve us." Fifteen minutes later, a man openly stole from a woman looking over a nearby stall. I gawked at the man; could he be any less subtle? Ezio had seen this, too, and he started tugging me along after the man, his pace fast. I had to jog to keep up, and keep one hand on my scarf to keep it from falling off.

The thief took a sharp right down an alley, and Ezio pulled at my hand. I was now running. "Auditore!" a low voice said from behind me. I crashed into Ezio as he stopped abruptly.

Ezio turned, and brusquely walked over to the almost-invisible door. "_Volpe?_" he asked the black hole.

"Come in." The other man said, and the door opened. I heard people scattering on both ends of the street; it had started to rain.

We entered the house quickly, and the door shut behind us silently.

* * *

_Review, prego. And no, it is not the (POINTS TO JAR OF RED LIQUID). It is Italian for 'please'. Grazie, mi amici._


	13. Chapter 13

_Yay a super long update!_

**Disclaimer: I haaaate these things, but I don't own.**

* * *

"You are not _la Volpe._" Said Ezio. He made a move for his dagger on his side.

"This is true. But unfortunately, the great Fox has died from something even he could not escape from. Plague." I remembered my familys' pallid faces as they died slowly and painfully. This was not something I would wish on anybody.

"Then who are you?" Ezio now had his hand on the hilt of his eagle-capped sword.

"I am _la Volpe._ I studied under him as his apprentice for many years, and he has bestowed the honor upon me of protecting this great country." The man spoke with heart; the old _Volpe_ must've been something of a father to him.

"You speak the truth; tell me: do you know who I am?" Ezio asked. He had not removed his hood, like he usually did inside.

"You are Ezio Auditore, the assassin. I have met you once before." I could see Ezio searching his memories until he recalled something that piqued his interest.

"I remember." He said. He jumped straight to the point. "This is—"

"Nora Titanimo. Yes. I knew your father, and your mother." The Fox bowed his head respectfully.

"Where will her lodgings be?" Ezio asked anxiously, looking fleetingly at the door.

"In the new Thieves' Guild in the San Giovanni district." _La Volpe_ said.

"_Bene._" Said Ezio, taking a casual step back.

"Ezio, where are you going?" I asked, turning around. I felt _la Volpe _grab my wrist.

"_Signorina_, I'd like to show you your room…" he said, in a desperate attempt to pull my attention away from Ezio opening the door…

He was shaking his head, not looking up at me.

"Ezio?" I asked frantically, striggling to break free of the grip on my wrist. "What's going on?" I yelled. I felt the cold rush of air that came with the rain seep in through the door.

"Nora, I love you. This is so I can protect you." He still wouldn't meet my eyes as he walked out the door and down the hall.

"Ezio!" I screamed, tearing my arm out of the other man's grip. I gathered up my dress and started dashing down the alley, the whole time screaming my love's name.

I could barely see his foot after he turned a corner, which made me go faster. I didn't know this city, making me lost in seconds. I just headed for the sound of the river. I felt my breath coming to me in short gasps. This damn dress!

"Eziooo!" I screamed, once I was at the docks. I felt my hair plastered to my face, and I shivered in the cold rain. But I kept on running. I felt my shoes fall off behind me, but my legs still pumped like one of Messer da Vinci's machines. My breath was getting shorter and shorter, and I felt lightheaded. I was finally at the docks. I caught a glimpse of Ezio's white hood onboard the ship, which had cast off just seconds before, heading back to Venice. "Ezio no!" I screamed at him, running level with the ship, shoving people out of my way.

"Nora! I'm sorry!" he yelled over the rabble of angry Florentines.

"Why are you doing this? Come back!" I sobbed, trying to get closer. I lost him behind a small building, and I was running for my life so I could see his face one more time.

"I love you! I need you safe for me!" he yelled as the ship exited the harbor, and I was fighting time as the outer walls of Florence loomed up ahead. Oh, how I wanted to be on that ship with him.

"Come back! Please, come back!" I cried, my heart breaking again as his face grew smaller and smaller until I could no longer see him. I collapsed to the muddy earth, curling into a ball until it was painful, and then some. I felt numb, my heart gone. Gut-wrenching cries came from me, and the freezing rain wasn't doing any good. If my mind were stable, I would've stood up and defiantly waited for the next ship to Venice. But I wasn't. I was crying for Ezio, my body shaking and heaving. I felt sick. I threw up whatever was left of my lunch next to me, in a pile of hay. My tears mixed with rain, and I felt like a tree that had just been cut down, only to be forgotten, rotten on the forest floor.

I don't know how long I stayed like that, only that when I had finally come to terms with what had happened, I was in a warm bed, clean and dry. I could taste salt in my mouth. I looked around me slowly, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. Someone sat in the room with me. "Who are you?" I asked, my voice rough with disuse.

"My name is Annetta. I am the chambermaid here." She said, folding her hands in front of her proudly. She was wearing a plain gray dress, with a worn apron over it. She had a few streaks of gray in her chestnut brown hair, but she looked to be very young and very wise.

"Where am I?" I asked, looking around the room. I was in a four-poster bed, with deep cherry wood all over. In the lavishly decorated room, I smelled something sickeningly familiar: Ezio.

"The Palazzo Audi—excuse me. _La Gilda de Ladri de Firenze._" She looked down, humiliated.

"That's not what you think." I said, catching her slip-up. "What were you saying before?"

"It's not what it used to be, it is only what it is now. I promised him I'd keep his home safe." She said, more to herself than anything. "This place used to be the Palazzo Auditori." She smiled, though I did not. That explained the smell. "This used to be _Ser_ Ezio's room, until the warrant for the family's arrest went out."

"That's…I…How long have I been asleep?" I asked, suddenly uncomfortable with being in Ezio's _bed_.

"Two days. You really took a beating out there." Annetta said, walking forward. She had a tray of food, including a goblet of wine, next to me on the table. "You must be hungry." She said, handing me the bread. I nibbled on it, not very hungry.

"Why am I here?" I asked after a moment of silence.

"You are here…to be safe."

The world flashed white and I felt myself being pulled out.

* * *

"…up…wake up…wake up!" someone yelled, shaking my arm roughly as I quickly sorted through mine and Nora's memories. It was getting harder and harder to distinguish where I was, and the throbbing behind my eyes was horrible. I launched myself forward once I'd gotten a hold of myself, gasping as the pain behind my eyes suddenly heightened and peaked. I held my fingers to my forehead like I could remove the pain manually.

"Is she okay?" someone asked from next to me. I looked over and saw a bit of blonde before it flitted away. For some reason, I started mumbling, 'he's gone, he's gone, he's gone' over and over again.

"Lucy!" the first voice yelled, and I heard myself groan in pain, my mind seeming to split open. I gritted my teeth, and accidentally caught a piece of my lip, making blood spill into my mouth.

"Here." Someone said, the blonde one I think. Something was exchanged.

Something was jabbed its way into my arm, and I felt a chilling liquid trail down my arm and up my shoulder, heading into my brain, making my vision go blurry and dark. Sweet sleep came to me.

I dreamed of colors and bright lights, of places I had no idea where they were. I dreamed I was moving quickly. I dreamed that I was being whispered to sweetly. But all these things were surely dreams…

I awoke with my head in Desmond's lap. He was driving fast, by the way stationary objects were flying past the driver-side window. I moved my head slightly, and Desmond looked down and let out a sigh of relief before pulling over quickly. Cars zoomed by, while he unbuckled himself and sat me upright, making me look at him. He tilted my head from side to side before leaning forward and embracing me. "Are you alright?" he asked, brushing my hair back with his thumbs.

"I don't know…he's gone, why is he gone?" I asked, and Desmond held me tighter.

"This isn't you. Don't become her. Don't let her out." He said, whispering in my ear. For some reason, his words sounded foreign, and I could only just understand them.

"What's happening to me?" I asked. "Desmond, I'm scared." I said, detached. I couldn't feel myself saying the words, only hear them.

"You're absolutely safe." He said, and I believed him. I felt myself slipping back into my body.

I felt Desmond's warm breath on my neck. The way his hands shook slightly as he held me to him. The low rumble in his chest as he spoke. All of these things made me relax and focus on things around me. I could still hear cars whoosh by, but it was nighttime. The stars were out.

"Where are we?" I asked. I sat up, but Desmond kept his firm grip on me, not letting me go anywhere. We were in an old truck. I suppose this was less conspicuous than the Porsche.

"We're driving to Rome. When you were asleep, we were ambushed. Lucy told me to take you and get out. I don't know what happened yet, we've only been out here for a few hours. But they stuffed the Animus in the back, just in case." He looked out the windshield, at the winding road ahead of us.

"Why are we going to Rome?" I asked.

"The assassins there want to try something that might be able to get us to move faster through the memories." I felt my mind hook on one word.

"Us?" I asked.

"It's called the Interface program. They hook up two different Animus machines, with two people with a common ancestor. In our case, Ezio and Nora." This was the first time that he admitted to "being" Ezio. "It's a complicated procedure, and entirely risky. But it gives us a reason not to stay and fight." I felt myself sit up straighter at this.

"I don't know how to fight." I said. Okay, so I took an Advanced Self-Defense class in my Junior year, and I knocked the instructor out. So what?

"You don't but Nora does. Her experiences with the sword and other weapons can be retained by you. That's what happened with me and Ezio, and even Altaïr."

"Wait, _who_?"

Hours passed by, which turned into days. We stopped in Monteriggioni, to rest for awhile and attempt to contact Lucy, Rebecca, or Shaun.

"I'm gonna be out for a couple of hours." I announced to Desmond, who was attempting to find a secure connection to any assassin in the area.

Desmond was immediately concerned. "Where are you going, why, and when will you be back?" Jeez, he sounded like my father when I was fifteen.

"Up to the castle on the hill, because I'm sick of being inside, and…that is indefinable." I walked out of our hotel room, armed with two stilettos Desmond had supplied for me. They felt awkward against the small of my back, and I was worried they would cut me, so I walked slowly up the street, stepping around the large boulders in my way. There was obviously a siege here, long ago. The ruined castle on the hill only vaguely looked like the Monteriggioni in Nora's time. There was a great large hole in the roof where Ezio's room used to be, and the once-open doors to the front were now boarded up and covered in old caution tape. There was a sign that said the building was condemned.

I walked around to the back of the house, where I knew there was a secret entrance. I grabbed a large boulder and started smashing it over the grate in the center. It made a horrible noise, but this town was basically deserted. I threw the boulder aside once I'd made a hole big enough for me to slip through. This was crazy. Bracing my feet on the sides of the grate, I peeked my head in through the hole.

The natural light in the Sanctuary was dimmed by my shadow and the centimeter-thick dust accumulated on the floor. No one had been in here for centuries, literally. The piece of grate I had smashed had broke free, and the entire thing swung forward. I started screaming as I began to plummet down. Instinct flew through me and I made my body go loose, like a spring, my feet ready to hit the ground.

When I did hit the ground, it was silent, as opposed to the horrible echoing of the grate next to me. The dust swirled up in the shaft of light I stood in, making me cough. I could barely see my surroundings, but there was no need. I already knew where I was. Damn, I should've brought a flashlight.

I was still kneeling from where I had touched down, and I looked up into the face of a skeleton, covered in armor. I gasped and scrambled back. I recognized that armor, and the sword and the equipment. Somewhere deep inside of me began to break, and I covered my hand with my mouth as I realized who this was.

"…Ezio." I whispered. He was _real_. I stepped forward gingerly, just in case something crazy happened, like _if he was still alive_. You never know these days. I sat down in front of the skeleton. "Oh my God!" I gasped, shock finally setting in.

He looked like he had died peacefully, if it weren't for the fact that there was a stained knife laying not far away from him. Who had killed him? I looked around, as if the answer would make itself known. Nothing moved, except the dust. I was now in the shadows, and I saw a shadow slide by, in the shape of a bird. The shadow became larger, until a magnificent eagle flew into the room. It glided around on the air, showing off its beautiful feathers, before coming over to me. I was standing there in shock. The eagle flew past me and Ezio, and came to rest on a statue of a serious-looking man in an assassin uniform, a hidden blade extended on his left hand. Unlike Ezio, he only had one. I also noticed that the statue was missing a ring finger, on the same hand that housed the hidden blade. Maybe it had fallen off in disrepair?

The eagle looked me in the eye, its' reflective ones meeting blue. I felt captivated by its stare, and I was unable to move. Finally, it shifted its gaze to the skeleton of Ezio, and for a moment, the eagle looked…sad. With a piercing cry, it soared off of the statue and out of the Sanctuary. I looked down at Ezio, and got to my knees again. I held a shaking hand out to him, afraid.

I rested it slowly on the bones in his hand. They were warm with humidity, but they were in good shape. I moved my hand over to the armor, where it gleamed dully. I had no idea what I was doing, but whatever it was, I seemed to be moving for the pouch on his side. With a shuddering exhale of breath, I untied it from his belt. "I'm sorry." I said as I opened it.

There was a stunning amount of _florini_ in the pouch, at least several dozen. I picked them out, five at a time, and set them on the dirty tile. When all of the money was gone, there only left a few things: a key, a beautiful ring, and a letter. I slipped the ring on my ring finger. It fit perfectly. There was a striking ice-blue teardrop in the center, a stunning aquamarine. The key was on a string of cracked and broken leather, tied with a knot where the two frayed ends met. I put this key around my neck. Putting the delicate letter under my shirt for safekeeping, I rifled around in Ezio's other pockets. There was a bandolier of throwing knives, all of them sharp and deadly, a bag with three round balls. I knew these were smoke bombs; Ezio had once showed me—no, Ezio had once showed _Nora_ how they worked.

I worked quickly. I took the three items from the pouch, three of the smelling salts in a separate pouch, the hidden blade on his left wrist, and the leather necklace with the five silver beads around his neck. I sent a silent prayer up for him. "Rest in peace." I said, standing up.

I went left around the stairs, and headed up the black hallway, cobwebs falling in my face. I could only hope that the door to the library was open.

It wasn't. I hit a brick wall, literally. I rubbed at my nose, and felt around. Oh, I wished for some light! My eyes began to adjust, aided by the faint glow of the sanctuary itself.

I felt along the wall until I found the switch that made it retract. With a great rumble, the door slid open, but only a foot or so. I guess this came with age. I managed to squeeze through it, and into the slightly better-lit office of Mario Auditore.

Books were strewn across the floor, pages ripped out of them. I picked one up, surprised it was written in English. It was a Bible. I recognized a verse from it: "He that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow." It was from the Book of Ecclesiastes, I knew this much.

I set it down gently on the desk, where woodworms and termites had made it fall to its knees. There was a terrible slant to it, which made the Bible slide off and drop to the floor with a horrid sound. "Ay yay yay!" I exclaimed. I was making so much noise today!

Something rolled to the side, where it rested on the floor. It looked to be a ball of some sorts, but made of metal. It was obviously hidden deep within the desk, and the termites had just freed it. I walked over to where it had rolled, under an upturned chair. It started to glow as I reached my hand for it. I pulled my hand back and the glow receded. What was this?

I quickly snatched it up, but the moment my fingers touched the metallic surface, a brilliant flash of light erupted from it. I gasped and dropped it as a woman materialized in front of me. She was obviously a hologram, dressed strangely, in the style of Ancient Roman Goddesses. She was very beautiful, and had an air of power coming off of her. How could that happen? She was a hologram! But no one had been in here for centuries…what was that ball? The woman began to speak.

"Greetings, Catalyst." She said, obviously addressing me. I was taken aback. Who was the Catalyst? I looked around me, to see if anyone had walked in. "Why have you summoned me now?"

"I…it was an accident. Who are you?" I asked, her synthetic gaze piercing me in place.

"I am many names. But you may call me Minerva. Again, why have you summoned me now?" I was confused by her words.

"I don't know what you mean! I didn't summon you, I don't even know who you are!" I started to back away, towards the Sanctuary hall.

"You know my name is Minerva. And since I am here, in a consciousness, you have summoned me, Catalyst."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" I looked around for another means to escape, but the gold light coming from the woman in front of me was blinding.

"Because that is what you are. Your arrival has brought on a great event millions of years in the making!" Minerva stared at me with those golden eyes of hers, almost seeming to laugh.

"I don't understand…" I shook my head.

"Your arrival in this land has given us hope, hope that we may be free again. With the death of the Prophet, and the birth of the Fugitive, this world is ready to welcome us back."

"The Prophet? Do you mean Ezio? He died hundreds of years ago! Who is the Fugitive?"

"I do not have time for your questions. You only have one more time to summon me, Catalyst. Use this privilege wisely. Listen closely: The Fugitive is your only hope, meaning it is our only hope. Stay with him, and make sure he will protect you when the time comes for protecting. Choose the right path, and your actions will pay off. Goodbye, Catalyst."

With a great burst of golden light, she was gone, and the room was dark again. I grabbed the ball, covering my hand with my shirt, and started running.

Nowhere in particular was where I went, but I found an opening when a large shaft of light caught my attention. I turned to that direction and kicked down the rotting boards that remained. Once there was a large enough hole for me to get through, I hopped through it and booked it back to the hotel.

I slammed the door closed behind me and dumped all of the objects I had brought along with me on the couch. The ball rolled around a bit before stopping in a deep crevice. Desmond burst in, a towel around his waist haphazardly and his body dripping wet. "Are you okay? Is everything alright?" he asked, but when his eyes landed on the ball, they got huge. "Where did you get that?" he asked.

"I was—the Sanctuary, and Ezio—oh my God he's _dead_! And then the ball, it was like, _glowing_! And then the woman came out and she…she called you the Fugitive, why did she call you the Fugitive?" I asked, breathing hard. I felt dizzy. The room around me spun. "What the hell?" I asked, before two strong, warm, _wet_ hands led me to a chair away from the items on the couch.

"Shh. Tell me what happened."

I began slowly, telling him about how bad a state the Villa was. I then told him what I found in the Sanctuary, and what I had taken from Ezio. I was gripping the necklace around my neck like a nun would a rosary. Desmond held my other hand, urging me to go on. I then told him how I went up the stairs, and through the door to Mario Auditore's office. When I told him about the ball, and how it had rolled out of the desk and what had happened when I had touched it, he wasn't surprised. He showed a glimpse of recognition when I mentioned Minerva, and when I was done, he leaned forward and hugged me hard, his toned muscles warm but still wet.

Okay, Desmond Miles has a body that you would want to drool _oceans_ over. I almost squeaked when he had hugged me, but I was too far in thought to think about it to fangirl out on him. "Oh, thank you so much!" he said, before pulling back. He looked me up and down. "You should take a shower and get some sleep. We're on a nonstop drive to Rome tomorrow."

"Why?" I asked, not sure as to what I was inquiring. I was a little lost, with everything that was happening.

"I'll explain later. Haha, I've seemed to get you all wet, there, sorry." He smiled a lopsided grin that made my heart flop. I had to steady my breath so I could stand up without fainting. Desmond pushed me into the bathroom, and closed the door behind me. "I'm gonna go get us some dinner, so don't go anywhere." He said, before I heard the door to the room close.

_That guy is ridiculous,_ I thought as I turned on the shower and undressed. I set the necklace and the ring on the sink, and plugged the sink up, just in case they fell in.

the shower was warmer than I thought, no doubt due to the fact that we were in _Italy_. The homemade rosemary soap and shampoo were in tiny little bottles on the counter, and I scrubbed my skin until it was pink and the bathroom smelled entirely of rosemary. My hair was next, and I loved the way it felt when the soap was gone. I felt _clean_.

I turned off the water and peeked out the side of the shower curtain, trying to locate the towel. With a sigh, I stepped out, looking under the sink. There were no towels in here. With a fleeting feeling of embarrassment, I called through the door, "Desmond? Can you give me your towel?" I asked. Had he come back yet? I poked my head through the door and looked around, the steam from the shower seeping out. I groaned and took a breath before running out of the bathroom, towards the bedroom, where I hoped the little blue towel was. With a frustrated squeak when I realized _it wasn't here_, I hopped from foot to foot in my nakedness, cold wrapping its spiny hands around my back and legs. I looked around frantically, trying to find it. "Desmond…" I groaned, darting into the kitchenette and back, shaking water everywhere. "Ugh! Where is the damn towel?" I said through gritted teeth. The air conditioning was making my hair super cold. I was about to go back into the living room when I saw it—on the far side of the bed. I pounced on it, coming up short.

I didn't even know the door had opened until I heard Desmond whistle low. My heart jumped in my throat, and I could only imagine how I looked. Sprawled out, naked, on the hotel's bed. Reaching for a towel. "Get out!" I shrieked at Desmond, my face turning red. By the look of my glare, he blanched and left the doorway. I scrambled back, with the towel in hand, and quickly dried off my hair and body before slipping into some shorts I had found under the bed. They weren't mine, or Desmond's, but I put them on anyways. They were what we called 'booty shorts' in high school. I groaned and looked in the mirror. Thank god I work out, is all I have to say. I also found a low-cut v-neck t-shirt in my favorite color, blue. This was ridiculous. Was this place once a whore house?

Come to think of it, I think it was.

* * *

_LOL I love Desmond. He's my fave._

_Review please, I didn't write this 14-page long chapter for NOTHING..._


	14. Chapter 14

_I've gotten this insane idea into my head that Desmond's body looks like a cross between Mark Walhberg's when he did the Calvin Klein thing and Taylor Lautner's in the movie Eclipse...like I said, "_drool _oceans_ over his body".

**Disclaimer: I don't own Assassins Creed or the All-American Rejects' song 'The Poison', which makes an appearance... :)**

* * *

I walked out into the living room without a word, still drying my blonde hair off. Going into the bathroom, I retrieved the necklace and the ring, putting them both on. After that, I put the key around my wrist and I walked into the kitchen. Somehow wearing Ezio's things made me feel confident and empowered.

"Do they teach assassins to knock?" I asked Desmond, who was unloading ready-made lasagna and various travel foods. I watched patiently from a corner.

"Everyone knows how to knock. But what if someone had been killing you silently? I'm sure courtesy wouldn't be a problem in that situation." He said, shaking his head slightly.

"So they teach you paranoia and a wicked imagination instead." I scoffed, reaching for plates in the cupboard.

"It's not taught, it's impressed." He said, his voice all low. I put two plates on the table, and I started searching for flatware.

"So." I said, after a moment of long, awkward silence. Desmond wouldn't look at me, and his ears were tinged with red.

"You look like you're twenty." He said randomly. I let out a disbelieving sigh.

"They teach you how to read ages?" I asked, finding the cutlery. Thing was, there was only a spoon and a fork. That was it. "Spoon or fork?" I asked. (**(urhurhur))**

Desmond had to spit out the water he was drinking in the sink. "What?" he asked, a question of 'what the hell' on his features. I held up the silverware. His eyes recognized them and he breathed a sigh of relief. I realized what he was thinking.

"Ugh! How old are you, fourteen?" I exclaimed, setting the utensils down on the table like they had burned me.

"Since we're on the topic of age, no, I am not fourteen. I am twenty-seven." He said, throwing an apologetic smile towards me. All accusations I was going to fling out at him were dissolved. "And I'll have the spoon." He sat down at the table, and took a huge scoop of lasagna on the plate.

I just realized how hungry I was. I sat down, and took a scoop of lasagna as well, nearly half the size of Desmond's. I began eating, stealing glances towards Desmond. He was already halfway done. Ugh, men.

I finished dinner (after Desmond had seconds, in which there was no lasagna left) and retreated to the living room, toying with the ring. I saw the letter to my left. I looked around (Desmond had already gone to bed, but I was restless) before I snatched it up and opened it.

Of course, it was in Italian. I let Nora do the translating for me.

_Dearest Nora,_

_I write you this letter because I am lost without your love. I cannot forgive myself for the things I have done without you around, and the ghosts haunt me in your absence. Never have I felt this way before, and I want you to know: I love you. I love you with all my heart, never forget._

_And it is because I love you that I ask your hand in marriage. With the ring I have enclosed, and the key as well, they show that we are eternally bonded, and you are the key to my heart and soul. Protect it well, for I trust you immensely._

_Ezio._

I set down the letter, bewildered. I stared at the key and the ring on my hand. They were gifts of love, love for Nora Titanimo. A love that went on in me…

I rubbed my head, feeling like I'd just read someone's diary.

I got up, suddenly tired. I looked at Desmond's sleeping form on the bed, and sighed. I went to the couch and curled up, falling asleep.

* * *

When I woke up, my face was inches away from Desmond's. His eyes were wide, and he had a grip on my arms, keeping me away from him. He looked hurt.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"You came in here, speaking Italian, and then you sort of jumped on me and started kissing me…your eyes were all glazed over…" he said, his face turning red. I felt so embarrassed. Oh, Nora…why?

"What did I say?"

"Something about Ezio." He said in a clipped voice, his blush deepening. It must've been something dirty…oh, god.

"Oh my God…" I groaned, rolling off of him. I lay on my back, covering my face with my hands.

"Happened to me, too." He said.

"What?" I looked over at him.

"This was a couple of days ago. I woke up, and I was standing in your room, watching you. It really freaked me out." He looked over at me for a second, his eyes shining in the moonlight. "We should get some rest." He said after a minute or so of staring at each other.

"Yeah…" I said, getting up. Desmond grabbed my wrist.

"Don't go back out there." He said, sounding desperate. I nodded and slipped back into the bed. He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me. I rested my hand on his. His low, steady breathing in my ear lulled me to sleep, and the last thing I heard was him saying, "I'll always protect you."

When I woke up, Desmond had gone. I sat up in bed, wiping sleep from my eyes and regaining my senses. I got out of bed, still in my shorts and v-neck. I found my shoes next to the couch and put them on. After this, I tied up my hair and saw the backpack.

It was a blue backpack, with three zipper pouches: a big one in the back, a smaller one in the front, and a tall one on the side. Taped to the backpack was a note that said 'I'm getting train tickets to Rome. STAY HERE.' I scoffed and looked in the backpack.

In the biggest pocket was a laptop with a solar charger, throwing knives, a hidden blade, and a cell phone. In the medium pocket was a wallet, a set of keys, and a first aid kit. In the taller pouch was a canteen, which held about 40 ounces of water…or whatever the hell you wanted.

I looked speculatively at the hidden blade. Peeking out the window to make sure Desmond wasn't ten feet from the door, I put it on, adjusting the straps so they fit my forearm. The device felt strange on me, yet utterly familiar. Had Nora worn this before?

I slipped the release mechanism on my pinky finger, and spread my fingers out, like I'd seen Ezio do. Pulling down with my pinky, I watched the blade spring out, narrowly missing my fingers above it. I looked it over in the light. It was beautiful, and deadly. I quickly took it off and unbuckled it from my arm. Setting it back in the backpack, I took a seat on the couch. The ball rolled toward me with the new incline. I stood up right away, staring at it.

Obviously Desmond knew what it was. The way he had looked at it in complete recognition told me it was something that would help us immensely. Or him, depending on the situation. It was definitely a weird object. It began to glow, though I was over five feet away from it. The room started to get hotter and hotter. I stumbled back, landing on the backpack.

Something inside the backpack exploded, and I was shrouded in smoke. I had forgotten the assassin's favorite getaway—the smoke bomb. I started choking and coughing on the putrid air, trying to find the door.

When I reached for the handle, I immediately drew back. It was glowing red-hot.

I managed to hold my breath for the minute or so that the smoke bomb was on. When the air dissipated, I went into the bathroom, opening the transept above the shower. I breathed the fresh air like a fish in water.

"Hello?" someone called from the door. Desmond! "Am I allowed to come in, or do I have to knock?"

"Come in!" I didn't have the energy to add anything sarcastic. I just kept breathing.

When Desmond came in, he smelled the air. "You let off a smoke bomb in here?" he asked. How had he gotten through the door? It was _glowing_!

"Yeah, I fell…" I said, scratching my head.

"No problem. I have more." He said. He held up two train tickets. "Let's go to Rome." He said, smiling.

I didn't know how Desmond had gotten the Animus onto the train without any suspicion, but he had done it, that was all that mattered. With the backpack over his shoulder, we took our seats towards the door.

It was a four-hour ride to Rome, and Desmond had told me not to fall asleep again, just like on the plane.

And just like on the plane, he fell asleep within the first ten minutes. I was busy immersed in Southern Italy's countryside, the yellows and golds and the vibrant hues of blue in the sky were breathtaking. I only imagined what Nora would've thought.

Two hours passed by before Desmond started to mumble in his sleep. At first it was just a couple of words, some in Italian, some in English. But then he started to speak sentences. "I love you." He whispered at one point. At that moment I wished he was in the window seat instead of me. "I need you." He whispered in Italian. "Marry me, marry me…" I sat there in shock, watching him with wide eyes.

When his mumblings became louder, I shook his arm. He woke up, but it wasn't Desmond.

His eyes were golden, like Ezio when he was using his sixth sense. His eyes had become glazed over, and he was looking at me with his eyes full of love. I took a deep breath. "Desmond." I said, resting my hand on his arm.

He leaned forward quickly, capturing my lips in his, and wrapping his hand around my neck. Oh, I could've lost myself in that kiss, yes, but I didn't. Because it wasn't Desmond. "Desmond." I said again, not moving. Ezio just kept kissing me.

I pulled back from him, breaking apart. There was visible hurt in his eyes, his brilliant golden eyes. "_Perche, Nora?"_ he asked. _Why, Nora?_

"Desmond. Wake up." I said, shaking his arm. But Ezio was still there. "Desmond." I said, a little louder. "Ezio, I need Desmond now." I said, looking into his eyes, trying to make a connection.

Ezio nodded. "_Bene._" He said, and closed his eyes, concentrating. When they opened again, they were the familiar color of autumn leaves. I sighed, smiling.

"What happened?" he asked, pulling his hand back from my neck.

"Your ancestor is a really good kisser." I said smugly. About three milliseconds after I'd said it, I knew what Desmond was going to say.

"Ditto." He smiled. We laughed at the same time, though there was no reason to. We both looked at each other warmly, smiling.

I relaxed back into my chair, touching my lips slyly. I still felt the heat of Desmond on me vaguely. I looked over and saw Desmond calling the waitress with the long legs over. He ordered a beer and asked me if I wanted anything. I said a strawberry soda and he nodded, locking eyes with me for a long second.

When the waitress walked away with our orders, he sat back as well. I leaned over, curious. "Did you learn all of your Italian from Ezio?" I asked.

"Only some. Most of the stuff, Rebecca or Shaun had translated, with the odd bit of Italian thrown in. It had been said so much that I had just caught onto it, I guess." He shrugged and looked past me, out the window. "Oh, look." He said, pointing at something.

I swiveled my head just in time to see the sun set over the hills. It was stunning, with the blue fading away fast, replaced by a brilliant deep purple. I tilted my head up, to see stars overhead. The countryside was bathed in shadow, and a couple of seconds later, the overhead lights turned on. The captain up front announced that we were arriving in Rome in less than an hour.

"Where did you put the—" I turned my head back, only to find myself three centimeters from Desmond's face. "Desmond." I said, searching his eyes for Ezio. Strange; nothing was there.

"I don't even know your name, and I feel like I'm in love with you." He whispered. I looked away, blushing furiously.

"It's just Ezio playing tricks on you. He thinks I'm Nora." I said, shifting around in my seat, unable to meet his eyes.

"It's not just that." He whispered. I couldn't breathe. "It's strange, like I've known you my entire life." He said, searching my eyes for something, anything.

"I don't know what you're saying, Desmond." I said, shaking my head.

"Maybe…never mind. That was stupid." He leaned back in his chair, waiting for the waitress.

A minute later, the long-legged waitress came out, with Desmond's beer and my soda. We drank in silence. When I was done, I reclined the chair back, and attempted to relax, but my mind was rushing with the Italian soda and Desmond's words.

_I feel like I'm in love with you…_

I squeezed my eyes shut almost painfully, trying to blot out the words. The bland taste of the strawberry in the drink stuck in my mouth, and I felt strange. I sat up, and took the drink in my hand. I sniffed at it.

There. That tangy smell that was almost unscented but not. I looked over at Desmond. "Did you…?" I asked, before passing out on the chair.

* * *

I woke up in a bed, with birds chirping outside. Soft, lilting music drifted in, and I sat up quickly, making me nauseous. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the world from spinning. When I opened my eyes, I found that I was in a relatively large room, with a four-poster bed and an armchair in the corner.

The chair was uninhabited, and this calmed me some.

But as soon as I was calm, I was frantic; questions were flashing through my mind at a hundred miles an hour.

Where was I? Where was Desmond? What had happened to Shaun, Lucy, and Rebecca? Were they alright? Why was I here? Did Desmond…_drug_ me? My eyes widened.

I hopped out of bed and went over to the window, looking down on the street below. I still had on my booty shorts and v-neck. Good. No one had changed me.

Below me was a street full of people, surrounding a particularly small band that looked to have about three people in it. The music was soft, and the words were in English. I recognized the song from a couple of years ago. The guitarist was singing, and the voice sounded familiar. He was plucking the strings delicately.

_You were so young_

_And I guess I'm old._

_Open your eyes_

_And I keep mine closed._

_I prefer standing_

_And you take your seat._

_I'll be wide awake_

_And you'll be asleep._

The guitarist was strumming only two chords on this guitar the color of opals, from what I could see, but it sounded beautiful. A cellist came in with a descending walk-down as they went into the chorus. I opened the window a bit, and leaned out.

_And you fall down a hole;_

_That's the one place that we both know_

_You'd take me with you if you could but I wouldn't go_

_I guess that sometimes_

_We both lose our minds, to_

_Find a better road_

The music went into an interlude. I rested my head on my folded arms as the singer went into the second verse.

_I can be pensive_

_And you can be so sure_

_You'll be the poison_

_You'll be the cure_

_I'm alone on the journey_

_I'm alive nonetheless_

_And when do your very worst_

_Mmmm, it feels the very best_

The backup singer, the cellist, came in with a lower voice, accenting the frontman. The drums got louder.

_And you fall down a hole_

_That's the one place that we both know_

_You'd take me with you if you could but I wouldn't go_

_I guess that some times_

_We both lose our minds_

_Find a better road_

The guitarist looked up at me in the window, humming. A flash of gold from his eyes told me who he was. Desmond.

_And we fall down a hole_

_That's the one place in this world that we both know_

_You'd take me with you if you could—_

_If you could, I'd lose everything_

The chorus went into a more angry part, changing from a lullaby to a menacing marching band beat. I kept my eyes on Desmond, who seemed to be really into the song.

_(La la lala la…)_

_Can't you see their faces melting as the sun rains from their eyes?_

_(Eyes, eyes, eye-yay yay.)_

_Who are you to keep your head with the hearts that you hang behind?_

_Look at yourself_

_Look in the mirror—don't you see a lie?_

_As you tell yourself again a thousand times_

_(Tell yourself again a thousand times…)_

_And the truth that makes us laugh will make you cry_

_You wanna die? No…?_

Desmond was _singing_. To _me._ My face turned red, but I couldn't look away. The song got quiet, and the crowd started chattering excitedly. Desmond started singing again, and the cellist played in the background.

_So you fall down a hole_

_That's the one place that we both know_

_You'd take me with you if you could but I wouldn't go_

_Because some times_

_We both lose our minds_

_Find a better road_

Desmond finished the last line a Capella, and the crowd started clapping. I stared down at Desmond bitterly, my thoughts returning to me. He had _drugged_ me. When the crowd had dispersed, I saw Desmond walk toward the building, bringing the guitar with him. He waved to the guys packing up, and they saluted him farewell. I turned my back to the window, leaning on the sill, and facing the door.

When it opened, I crossed my arms, scowling. "Are you stupid?" I asked. He held up his hands in surrender, the beautiful shimmering guitar shining innocently against his stomach.

"Nice to see you, too." He laughed. He closed the door, and swung the guitar off of his body, resting it on the bed.

"I hope you didn't kill the last man who owned that." I said, nodding towards the guitar. The hot Italian sun shone onto my back, making it itch slightly.

"And I know you like the guitar." He said, smiling. "Those guys just needed an extra guy for a second." I stared at him incredulously. He'd just evaded all of my questions. "Seriously. I haven't killed anyone, nor needed to, since before I met you." He said, his palms up. He was telling the truth.

"Fine. I believe you. But you have to return that. And what the hell? You drugged me?" I asked, my voice raising at the last part.

"Calm down! You needed the sleep, and it would've gone faster if you weren't there."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

"I had someone put you up in this room for the night. You were completely safe, and I didn't need to keep an eye on you as I was unloading the Animus. Which is safe, at headquarters, thanks to us."

"Us? I thought I was playing the part of the unconscious girl in the hotel room!" I shook my head, and closed the window behind me.

"It was just one more thing that I didn't want to worry about." Desmond said, walking over to me.

"But Minerva said that I was supposed to stay with you at all times." I said, turning my head to the side. "She obviously knows more than we do, so shouldn't we listen to her?"

Desmond was quiet. "You're right. I shouldn't have done that." I know it sounds clichéd, but it definitely felt good to be told I was right. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"Okay." I turned around, and sat on the bed next to the guitar. "So when did you learn to play guitar?"

"A year ago. You have _no_ idea how grating Shaun's voice can be. So I picked up the guitar from this kid across the street from the Auditore house. Helped me calm down when I wasn't allowed out of the house."

"I don't remember seeing one in your room." I said. "Wait. Did you say Auditore house?"

"Yeah, the hideout we were in was the Auditore Palazzo. It'd been renovated in the early nineties for electricity and other uses…like the assassins. I'm surprised it was in such good shape. And I didn't keep the guitar in my room."

"That's crazy. And they didn't know you were Ezio? And where did you keep it? I thought I went everywhere in the hideout."

"No, they didn't. It was complete coincidence, and Rebecca had actually patched in during one session in the Animus and said, 'dude, we're in your ancestor's house!' and Shaun had asked why she didn't know this before. Needless to say, I did a bit more exploring after that." He smiled and took a seat in the armchair. I pulled the guitar into my lap. "That's actually my guitar. I'd managed to get it out before we'd left." He smiled lovingly at it, and I felt my heart swell, then sink. My guitar was a pile of ashes.

"It's beautiful." I observed, noticing the fine details in the wood. It looked like a tree with a million roots.

"Yeah. Do you want to play?" he asked.

I looked up, my face beaming. "Really?" Desmond smiled his lopsided half-smile and nodded. I bit my lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. I sat up straighter, like I was taught in class. I held my fingers less than an inch from the fret board, but my mind was blank.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I don't know what to play." I laughed.

* * *

_Onnnnn to the next chapter, hmmmmmmnn?_


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Don't own Assassin's Creed or Coldplay's song, 'Swallowed in the Sea', which makes an imminent appearance, if you're not blind.**

* * *

"Play anything that comes to mind." He said, leaning forward, anticipating yet being patient. I closed my eyes, thinking of something, anything, to come to mind. Usually, I liked to play Green Day first, but my mind was blanking on all of their songs. I strangely thought of one title:

"Swallowed in the Sea." I whispered, chords and lyrics coming to me. The song was a story of my life.

_You cut me down a tree_

_And brought it back to me_

_And that's what made me see_

_Where I was going wrong_

_You put me on a shelf_

_And kept me for yourself_

_I can only blame myself_

_You can only blame me_

_And I could write a song_

_A hundred miles long_

_Well, that's where I belong_

_And you belong to me_

_And I could write it down_

_Or spread it all around_

_Get lost and then get found_

_Or swallowed in the sea_

_You put me on a line_

_And hung me out to dry_

_And darling that's when I_

_Decided to go to see you_

_You cut me down to size_

_And opened up my eyes_

_Made me realize_

_What I could not see_

_And I could write a book_

_The one they'll say that shook_

_The world, and then it took_

_It took it back from me_

_And I could write it down_

_Or spread it all around_

_Get lost and then get found_

_And you'll come back to me_

_Not swallowed in the sea_

_And I could write a song_

_A hundred miles long_

_Well, that's where I belong_

_And you belong with me_

_The streets you're walking on_

_A thousand houses long_

_Well, that's where I belong_

_And you belong with me_

_Oh what good is it to live_

_With nothing left to give_

_Forget but not forgive_

_Not loving all you see_

_Oh the streets you're walking on_

_A thousand houses long_

_Well that's where I belong_

_And you belong with me_

_Not swallowed in the sea_

_You belong with me_

_Not swallowed in the sea_

_Yeah, you belong with me_

_Not swallowed in the sea_

I ended the song with the dramatic a capella, same as Desmond not a couple of minutes ago, and looked up at him, who was still sitting in the same position he was, his eyes open and attentive.

"That was beautiful." He whispered, walking over to me in a crouch, as to not break eye contact. He placed his hands on either side of my face, wiping away tears that I hadn't realized had escaped. I pulled my face away from his hands and handed back the guitar.

"What do we do now?" I asked.

"We need to get to headquarters, but I couldn't move the Animus, because it had started getting light before we could really get deep into the city. We're still typically in the suburbs of Rome." He noticed that I didn't want to talk about the song, and for that I was grateful.

"Okay, well, where is headquarters?"

"Under a church—the Church of Saint Augustine. But it's a Wednesday, no one should be there tonight." I looked down at my watch. It was a little after three, but I didn't know the date. I looked out the window.

"That's…not gonna be possible." I said.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Desmond was honking the horn at a group of old nuns making their way to a nearby church. "Desmond! Do _not_ honk at nuns!" I scolded him as he rolled forward a couple of feet before being stopped by a vendor with his transportable cart of goods. Desmond leaned out the window.

"_Muovi il culo!" _he shouted in Italian, their version of "get your ass in gear". The vendor flipped him the bird and Desmond only let the truck honk continuously. This was getting annoying. "Seriously, what is going on?" he asked.

"Desmond. It's _Christmas Eve_. Italians are _crazy_ about their Catholic holidays." I said, trying to explain.

"But why is everyone in the damn street?" he asked, angry.

"Because they usually are in walking distance of their church. If you hadn't noticed, _there's tons of them in Rome._" I waved my hand around, pointing at one to our left (where the nuns had went) and one further down the street.

"It's only another mile and a half until we're there." He sighed, resting his head on the steering wheel. It was in this lighting that I finally saw the dark bags under his eyes.

"Desmond, when was the last time you slept?" I asked, concerned.

"At the hotel."

"…the one in Monteriggioni." I confirmed. He nodded. "Get over here, and close your eyes for a bit." Desmond protested, but he finally scooted to the left, and I get behind the wheel. Within seconds, Desmond had passed out. An opening to my left made itself visible, and I was driving through the street at a comfortable pace. It was odd, driving on the right side of the car and left side of the street. Everything was utterly awkward, but we were driving at a slow pace, which made it better.

Desmond started snoring, and I turned on the radio, but kept the volume down. It was apparently the news station. "…_blah blah blah terroriste en Italia…blah blah blah…Desmond Miles…" _ I turned the volume up frantically, and tried to translate.

"…Desmond Miles is the sole kidnapper of an American college student…here in Italy, keep an eye out, and report to the police…" I'd had enough. I switched off the radio and clicked the horn a bit, to move the kids out of the street. They complied when I smiled and wormed my way through. Suddenly I was in open road, and I slightly accelerated. The speed was making me nervous, especially with the blue SmartCar that had just whizzed by the side of the truck. I checked the map that Desmond had, and found the Church, like he said, only a mile and a half away. I memorized the names of the streets I had to take to get there, and started out.

I held my breath until I stopped, whether it was at a stop sign or a light. Then I would draw in a breath again and go forward. I soon found myself in front of the church, circling around back for a parking spot. I found one just as another truck pulled out. I killed the engine and relaxed into my seat, exhausted from all that anxiety.

"_Grazie a Dio._" I said, looking over at the church. The beautiful stained glass depiction of the Virgin Mary stared gracefully back at me.

"Nice driving." Said Desmond, his eyes still closed.

"Jesus!" I shouted, startled. "You're supposed to be asleep!" I exclaimed.

"Not nice to curse in a church." He said, sitting up. "Oh, I needed that." He said. "Thank you for that." He said, groaning as he got out of the truck.

"But-but we're not in a church!" I sputtered, though he had already unloaded the guitar out of the truck bed. I got out to go help him, but he didn't have anything else. I remembered that he had unloaded the Animus here last night. He handed me the guitar.

"Your job is to make sure that this stays safe. Mine is to make sure you are, so if I'm doing my job, my guitar should be in one piece by the end of the day." He smiled and began to walk toward the church, and knocked an intricate pattern on the door with his fist. The door swung open.

"Wow." I observed, clutching the guitar by its neck. I slid the strap over myself, to make sure I didn't drop it if someone jumped out and scared me.

"Yeah. Wow." Desmond said, stepping into the creepy dark space that looked more like a place to avoid rather than keep an assassin headquarters. I followed after him, making sure I could feel him in front of me.

"Who are you?" a deep voice asked in front of us. My hands jerked, and I would've dropped the guitar if the strap wasn't on.

"Desmond Miles and a Descendant who claims to be the Catalyst." He said evenly. Suddenly the lights were turned on.

A large black man was standing in front of me, holding a gun aimed for our heads. He put it down the moment the lights turned on. "Miles!" he exclaimed. "Thought you were dead." He clapped him on the back, and I just stood there, eyes wide. Desmond _knew_ this guy? "So, you arrived a little bit late. Lucy and the rest of your crew are here. I see you brought the Animus pieces." The man turned his attention to me. "You're the Catalyst?" he asked. I shrugged, but nodded at the same time. "We'll see, with the new Interface program we've been developing." The man started walking off, and Desmond followed. I walked at Desmond's side.

"Gregory is the First Lieutenant. He's next in line for Grand Master." Desmond explained. "We grew up together."

"Up until he jumped ship for nine years." Gregory laughed from in front of us. I looked at Desmond questioningly as we took a turn down the hall. He wouldn't look at me. "So, the Interface program is basically linking together two Animi **((lol just typed Anime))** and it allows further interaction with ancestors…but also finds a connection between the different persons in the machine."

"What will it do? How will it help us?" I asked, jogging to keep up with them.

"It'll access corrupted memories, and speed along our research. I understand you have a PE in your possession?" He looked expectantly at us, and Desmond nodded.

"Once we're inside, please." He said quickly.

Gregory looked at us for a long second before nodding. "Your crew is in the main Animus room." He said, turning on his heel and walking down the hall. We followed after him.

"Did you piss him off?" I asked, muting the strings of the guitar.

"No. He's just like that." He said, walking in front of me some.

"Oh." We began to walk off, and I looked down at the floor. It was old stone, like the cobblestones in the street outside. The walls were made of dirt and plaster, and they looked very old. This place definitely was the headquarters of Assassins.

I heard chatter through an open door. "They came in just after you left for your hotel." Gregory said. "They had taken quite a beating, but the Animus is okay."

"Is that Desmond?" someone asked from inside a room to our right. It sounded like Lucy.

"Yeah, we just got here." Desmond said, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he put on a smile and walked in.

It was a relatively large room, about the size of the Animus room back in Florence, if not a bit smaller and gloomier. There were various screens and servers around the room, and it was frigidly cold in here. There was even a layer of mist over our feet, which dispersed with each step we took in.

"There you are! We thought Templars got to you guys; you weren't responding to our messages." Said Rebecca from behind a pieces-missing Animus. Desmond took a seat nearby Shaun on a modern-looking couch.

"We have got the craziest story for you guys." Desmond said.

* * *

While he explained how we were in Monteriggioni, and what had happened, I stood near the door, clutching Desmond's guitar awkwardly, trying not to draw attention to myself, save the odd moment where Desmond would indicate that I did something in his tale. Which was most of the time, seeing as I've done lots.

When Desmond pulled out the glowing ball, everyone seemed to inch away. Lucy's eyes widened and scrolled to me. "Where did you find this?" she asked.

"In…in Mario's desk. It sort of…rolled out, when I dropped a book." I said quietly, not looking up. God, why was I so nervous?

"How did that happen?" Shaun asked, pushing up his glasses.

"I don't know. Maybe the termites had gotten to it?" I suggested, taking one step back.

"Maybe. But you said it reacted to your presence?" asked Lucy.

"Yeah, every time I'm near it, it starts glowing, and the only time I touched it, that lady—"

"Minerva." Everyone interrupted, with the exception of Gregory, who had his arms crossed and was watching from a corner.

"—had just popped out and…you know the rest." I said, plucking a muted string with my right hand.

"Right. There's more than one of these in the world, though. There's rumored to be six." Lucy said, leaning back, addressing the whole room now, instead of just me. "We know of two—well, now three." She said, gesturing at Desmond. "I wonder why it doesn't react to you…?" she wondered out loud.

"Maybe it's a flesh memory thing. Like how Ezio was with his piece of Eden and Rodrigo Borgia was with the Papal Staff."

"But isn't that Ezio's Apple?" Rebecca asked, pointing at the "Apple" in Desmond's hands.

"Maybe not. We don't even know if Nora had come in contact with the Apple. And if she had, we wouldn't know the memory yet. She hasn't told Ezio, as far as I can tell, and this would make it…complicated." Desmond was just running his mouth, yes, but we both knew that the couple liked to keep secrets from each other.

"As if it's not complicated enough?" I scoffed, completely out of turn. I ended up coughing the other half of my sentence, like nothing had happened. But everyone in the room was laughing, even Gregory.

"That's right. The Interface will follow both of your lives—well, past lives—quicker than if it was just a single-person Animus session, but we don't know the side effects yet. It's never been tested." Gregory had spoken up now, and I finally noticed the other Animus in the room—it looked exactly like Rebecca's, but instead of red, it was green, and there was only one computer—which meant no database or map.

"Does it work the same as the other Animus?" Desmond asked for me from the couch.

"Yes. Better, even." I saw Rebecca bristle from her spot next to her Baby. "We should get started right away…if that's okay with you." Gregory had given me a meaningful stare, and I nodded, blocking out the look on Ezio's face as he sailed off into the distance. "Good. I'll call in a supervisor, and you can get started. Shaun can work on the new one, Rebecca will stay with hers, and Lucy will monitor the Interface from that computer right there." Shaun got up without another word, sitting down at the other Animus. "Desmond, I recommend you go into the green one. Her mind isn't used to the Animus as much as yours is, and if something goes wrong, I don't want anything to happen." He nodded at us and left the room to find a supervisor.

Desmond got off the couch and led me outside, where Gregory had already turned a corner in the distance. "Are you sure you want to do this? You didn't handle it well last time you were in it…" he looked worried, and he was gripping my upper arms protectively.

"I'll be fine. I'm sure it wasn't such a big deal back then." I threw in a smile to try and convince him, but it didn't work.

"This _is_ a big deal…you nearly had a mental breakdown back in Florence. I have primary custody of you now, and I don't want to worry about…" his face went dark, and his eyes glazed over.

"Sixteen. I get it. And I'm an adult!" I protested.

"Not here, you aren't. You're a novice here, and I'm your mentor. It's my job to teach you, and to keep you safe. Now that you are, I think this," he grasped the guitar by the neck and lifted it off my body. There was a ghostly feeling where the strap had been weighing down my shoulder and back. "Will be safe on the couch. One last chance: are you absolutely—"

"Yes, yes, I'm absolutely sure, Desmond." I sighed. "The sooner we get this over with, the better." I turned and started walking into the room, but I was slammed against the wall, though gently. Desmond leaned in and kissed me, his warm mouth covering mine entirely. When he pulled back, he whispered, "That was all me." And walked in.

I rolled my eyes and brushed the blonde hair that had gotten in my vision. I walked in after him, and went over to Rebecca, who was mumbling angrily to herself.

"…'better, even', my ass. Sure, you can insult me, but you don't do that to…" I had tuned out Rebecca and I slid the HUD over my head, and I held my arm out, face up.

Rebecca almost killed me with the needle, her mind somewhere else. I barely had time to say "ouch" before I was being sucked into this new world of the Interface.

* * *

_So, how did you like it? If you're one of the rabid fans that follow my work (first, I'll have to update my Dedication on my page) then you know that I made a Desmond oneshot about his escape from the Assassin compound. Now, I've continued this story, but changed the title from _Miles From Home_ to _A Roll of the Dice_. I've done this because I wanted to add extra oneshots, and I've started-with Rebecca Crane. I added her story, _The Scarlet Crane, _to the list, and I have a poll running on my page of who I should write next._

_If not, please just review. :)  
_


	16. Chapter 16

_All I can say is blame it on the beta. In the meantime while he was off in la-la-land, I was avidly writing this story. I'm up to 23 right now, and there's an epic battle scene in one of the next chapters or so..._

**Disclaimer: Assassin's Creed and it's affiliates belong to Ubisoft BUT THE INTERFACE IS MINE! MWAHAHAHA MIIIIIINE, FRENCHIES! (No offense to french ppl though)**

* * *

The first thing I noticed about the Interface was that there were a number of things to do in the Loading area. It looked to be in a library, almost, and I wondered if I'd skipped the loading process altogether and just jumped into Nora's life. But I was wearing some comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt. Surely, Nora didn't wear this.

"Hello?" I called, my voice echoing up to the second floor. "Desmond?"

"I'm over here." I followed his voice to behind a shelf of books. There he was, clear as day.

"This is so crazy. I feel like I'm in the Matrix." I blinked, half-expecting the world to turn into binary.

"Yeah, me too." Desmond commented, pulling down a book from off the shelf. "This is cool. Great Expectations_._ It's a first edition." He blew off digital dust to show me the cover. I looked closely.

"No it's not. It's a digital copy." I said. "All that wording is just electronic numbers and letters, telling you what you want to see." I pulled down another book. "I bet I could say this book was…I don't know, Fight Club, and it would be that book." Despite the title I'd just given the book, it was covered in a velvet casing. I opened the book, to the first page. "'_Tyler gets me a job as a waiter, after that Tyler's pushing a gun in my mouth and saying the first step to eternal life is you have to die.'_ See?" I handed the book over.

Desmond looked at the book closely. "I guess you're right. I wonder if they have a video archive here…?" he was about to go start looking, but a television on the far side of the library turned on, and a video image of Lucy and Gregory appeared.

"Yes, but not right now. The reason we added the Library mode is because the Interface takes more time to load up, and our other servers have most every book ever written on them. This place is entirely safe, and you won't experience any effects of the Bleeding Effect from here, except an expanded intelligence."

"Something Desmond needs, over here." Shaun said from the side. I saw Desmond clench his fists.

"_Anyway_, we're going to put you through a tutorial of how it works. Lucy." Gregory stood up slightly, and Lucy tapped away on the keyboard.

The library slipped away and a new room took its place—it looked like a Japanese dojo. There was no television on the wall this time, only a faint image of something in the back of my mind. "Can you see us?" Gregory asked.

"Yeah." I said.

"A bit." Said Desmond, walking around the room, until he stopped over by me again. He pressed on my arm, and I stumbled back a bit.

"What?" I asked, slightly annoyed.

"It's only another virtual reality," said Lucy. "And you can't kill each other in here, because these are only your consciousnesses."

"Cool." I said. "So what are we going to do for the tutorial?"

"Well, I understand that you never got the normal Animus tutorial, am I right?" Gregory seemed to be looking at me.

"Yeah, I didn't need it."

"That's good. But Miles, this tutorial is totally different from what you know from Abstergo." Desmond blinked twice. "Let's get started."

"We're uploading the screen now…there. You see it?" in front of us was a thin sheet of color, with various words and pictures on it.

"What is it?" I asked.

"This is the new pause menu. If you need to talk to us, or just need a break, just think of the word, 'pause' in your own consciousness. Now, there's a map, too, showing both of your coordinates, and how far away you are from each other, sort of like the normal Animus minimap. You have other options as well, like inventory and the Database." I heard Shaun grumble something about multitasking and I saw Desmond smile a bit. "Access the pause menu for just about anything you need."

"Okay. So what else is new in the Interface?" asked Desmond.

"There's a partner camera in the menu but if your intention is to sleep, we can toggle it on or off. The partner camera is everything your partner sees, as they see it. Again, access this from the pause menu, right under the Database menu."

"Also, since you two are both in the Animus and will most likely not have any means of communicating besides your ancestors, there's a chat screen as well, down in this corner that I've made flash." Lucy said and sure enough, there was a box with two different colors in it lit up like Christmas lights. I stared at it.

'Cool' appeared in the red side.

'Can we just get started?' asked Desmond on the green side.

"Sure, Miles." I watched at Gregory took over the keyboard and the menu disappeared from in front of us. "Now, here's the thing—there's something up with the Interface, and we aren't able to access your ancestors' memories from the Renaissance."

"What?" we both asked from inside the Animus.

"We _were _able to find a memory, though, in 1186. Altaïr is 19, and your ancestor is 16." I sighed.

"Wonderful." I groaned. As if Nora and Ezio's unresolved story wasn't enough on my mind.

"The memories only last up until 1190, though, so we should be able to move through this quickly." Gregory nodded to me, and I saw Desmond deep in thought, across the room. I remember him saying something about Altaïr back on the road.

"Good luck." Said Lucy absentmindedly, engrossed in the new program.

Desmond and I locked eyes for a second before we were both sucked into the world of our ancestors, once again.

* * *

The high mountain air was clean and fresh and full of life. The trees were blooming, the river was warmer, and there was never more than a slight breeze during the day. I didn't know why the weather was so nice these days, I just went with it. On my days off from serving duty, I would lie on my roof and watch the clouds roll by, occasionally staring out at the sea of white-robed individuals that rushed around with a purpose, climbing atop roofs and jumping off of cliff faces and into tiny piles of hay. I watched them closely, memorizing their movements closely. Only a few have ever dared to look up in my direction, but by then, I was hidden behind the chimney, trying not to giggle.

I sat back against the chimney, counting clouds. I had started this morning, and I was at…fourteen. It was late afternoon, and I could hear my mother barking at my father from below me. My father roared something back; and I flinched and closed my eyes when something leather snapped across skin. I always retreated to the roof when things like this happened. It had been happening since I was a small child, when we had moved to Masyaf. It was so different from Jerusalem, where I remembered the brilliant spires over us and all of the kind nobles stopping to play in a game my friends and I had made up with sticks and stones. The food was nicer, I remember.

My father barked something and I beat the back of my head against the chimney wall. This was never going to end, with them. What was the problem? I was to be engaged in two weeks, to the slimy boy from down the road. His name was Nabih. I repressed a shudder when I thought of the way his sweaty hand had taken mine when my father had agreed to let me marry him. I had fainted.

I saw a particularly interesting robed man climb up the side of a building, hanging there for longer than necessary. The people around him scolded him, telling him he would kill himself. I smirked. Why did they think he was an assassin? The man pulled himself up to the roof, and started bounding across the rooftops, nearing the castle and the direction of my home. I realized he was going to have to cross my house, and I stood up, to give him room. He must obviously be in a hurry, and it wasn't our place to get in their way. We would lose a hand.

As the assassin neared, his hood fell back accidentally. I averted my eyes, but not before I had seen his handsome-yet-serious face. His eyes had glinted in the sun, a dark copper. His skin was the color of dirt, though I expected this was because of his occupation. He stopped on my house, to adjust his hood, covering his dark brown hair and face. I didn't dare move.

"At ease." He said, in a gruff, low voice. He sounded arrogant. I relaxed, folding my hands in front of me, but I didn't look up. "Go inside." He said, before darting off of my house.

"Assassin." I saluted him. I watched him retreat towards the castle before I sat down again, frustrated by the nerve of the man. They're all like this—arrogant, stupid, bigheaded, demanding, and they have no respect for anyone but themselves. I crossed my arms and huffed a breath, trying to forget his voice and face. They stuck in my mind.

(So that's where you are.) said the red chat box.

(Ha-ha, she thinks you're an ass.) I replied, tuning out my ancestor's mental fuming for a moment.

(I don't blame her.) I subconsciously smiled.

"AMIRAAA!" my father shouted from below me. I quickly shot up and swung through my window, closing it a split-second before my father came in. I had picked up a book and not cared to look at what it was before he had walked in. I stole a quick look down at it. Oh, great.

My father was a good head and a half taller than me, and he was menacing in every way possible. His face was always turned into a sneer nowadays, he always clenched his fists due to arthritis, and he spat when he spoke. He was once a great soldier, but after the war, he was forced to stay here, and become a merchant, like so many others had done.

"What are you reading?" he demanded. God, he was almost as bad as the Assassins.

"The Karma Sutra." I mumbled, trying to hide the book from him.

"Why are you reading THAT?" he asked, a bit of spit landing on my face.

"To be prepared for Nabih, after our wedding." I lied, a smile coming painfully to my features. I wanted to vomit for saying that.

"Good, good. That boy will give you many children and much wealth." He said, his sneer twisting up at the edges, a cruel, sadistic smile. "Your brother has returned." He stated, before leaving my room and closing the door. I almost groaned at this unnecessary action.

My brother walked in like any other time—unexpected, unannounced, and uncannily annoying. "Amira, did I just hear what I thought I heard?" he asked, peeking his head into the room. His short black hair matched well with his dark skin, and his black eyes were smiling, though his mouth was smirking.

"It was nothing." I said, putting the book to the side. My mother had left it in here a couple of days ago.

_Please Nabih well, and you will not end up like me_, she had said hastily before leaving. I shivered at the thought.

"Obviously not." He said, taking a step in. He leaned against the doorframe, clad in his new assassin robes. The novice hood from a month ago was gone, a white one in its place. I remember the ceremony—he thought he was going to get his finger cut off, for some strange reason. He had let the hood go to his head, so to speak, though he was only an apprentice at the moment.

"I hate Nabih." I sighed, looking down.

"Nabih? Who is that?" he asked. The engagement was only planned three weeks ago, and my brother was in Jerusalem the entire month.

"My soon-to-be-fiancée." I sighed, covering my face with my hands.

"What?" he exclaimed, rushing forward quickly. "When did this happen?" he demanded.

Unlike the other assassins, my brother was the only one who could make me do what he said. "Three weeks ago. I don't even know him! And the only reason that Father agreed to it was because his father owns the biggest merchant stall in the market." I groaned, leaning against the wall. "The engagement is in two weeks."

"And you're marrying his boy…Nabik?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Nabih. He's seven years older than me!" I exclaimed, as if I only just noticed.

"Seven years—I must talk to Father about this…" he got up, with the intention of going back downstairs. I shot up like an arrow, and held his sleeve before he could take one step.

"Don't you dare." I pleaded. My brother looked at me meaningfully, before he took his sleeve back.

"All right. I won't. I have to go up to the castle to brief the Master on my mission with Altaïr." I rolled my eyes. I had never met this Altaïr, but by the way the townspeople so openly brag about their experiences with him, he seemed like an egotistical showoff. "He's not that bad!" my brother pleaded. "Come on, you should meet him someday. He reminds me a lot of you. Who knows, Amira? If you weren't in such a predicament, and if the law allowed it, maybe you'd marry him!" he started laughing, and my face turned red.

"Get out of here!" I shouted. "Where's Kadar?" my twin brother was always next to my elder brother, with the exception of _right at this moment_. I assumed he was up at the castle, researching more about the Hashshashin. He was training to become a novice.

"I'll see you later, Amira." He said, ignoring my question.

"Safety and peace, Malik." I said, before the world flashed back to the library.

* * *

I was sitting in a chair, facing the television on the wall. I stood up, trying to find Desmond. I called his name.

"Over here." He said. He was looking over a copy of Thoreau's Walden. I walked over.

"Who are you in that memory?" I asked.

"If you weren't paying attention to the chat box, I was sending you messages." I blinked once and the pause menu came up.

There were four messages: 'I see you', 'I'm Altaïr', and 'what's your name'.

"Well, _her_ name is Amira. She had a brother named Malik, and her father was a pig."

"_Malik_? Malik A-Sayf?" he asked, his eyes getting wider.

"Uhh…" I said, tilting my head to the side a bit. I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Never mind. I'm Altaïr, yes." He put Waldenback on the shelf, where the binding darkened to some indefinable script not unlike Messer da Vinci's mirrorscript.

"So you know Malik?" I asked, and he nodded rather glumly. "What's up?"

"In the future, well, _their_ future, Altaïr makes a mistake and Malik loses his left arm…" he trailed off, his face one of regret and sorrow.

"Desmond it wasn't—" I didn't get to finish my sentence before we were being pulled back in the machine.

* * *

"Amira! Get your head out of the clouds!" Mistress Amanjot snapped at me. I was staring at the giant kettle of tea on the fire, the flames below entrancing me for a moment. Next to me, Kiranpreet was slicing bread for the assassins, and beyond her, Jazmine was piling rice into their silver containers.

"Yes, Ma'am." I said, turning back to my duty of ladling the hot tea into smaller pots to be taken out when the breakfast bell rang. The kitchen was loud, yet eerily quiet at the same time. No one was gossiping today, like they usually did. Everyone was engrossed in their work, even me. Though I didn't talk much at all, to say the least. I daydreamed of going to the ocean, by all of the Christian camps, and working there. Somewhere glamorous, where I could wear beautiful dresses and have people do my hair so people can just stare at me all day. I snapped myself out of my fantasy and got to work, concentrating so I didn't burn myself.

When the bell finally rang, the girls began tidying themselves up to go into the Great Hall. I smirked and shook my head to myself. The law stated that assassins weren't allowed to marry, or even court. "I hear that Altaïr is back." Someone whispered from behind their tray.

"Oooh, really? You'll have to point him out to me!" another girl cried.

"I heard his eyes are made of gold."

"Impossible!" a tiny girl named Marisef squeaked.

"I heard his eyes would burn you if you looked at them for too long…" a cautious girl named Harim said, swaying on the spot when too many people looked over at her.

"That's crazy! Only the Devil can do that…"

"Yeah, don't be silly, Harim…" I immediately felt sorry for Harim, who looked down as I did for the assassin yesterday. A feeling akin to being punched in the stomach suddenly coursed through me, and I felt really uneasy. Who was that man yesterday? Was that the one they're talking about? Malik's friend, Altaïr?

As the doors opened, the girls straightened up, and I held my tray of cups proudly. I was doing this for money, though I was forced to give more than half to my father every payday.

As the girls in front of me moved forward, I did as well, matching my steps with the girl directly in front, so I wouldn't trip if she stopped suddenly. I was to set my cups on the Masters' table, so I detached from the rest of the group to go place a cup in front of every man seated at the table. I felt an intense set of eyes on me, but I didn't look up until I was out of cups, where I excused myself from the table to retrieve more.

Who was looking at me? Was it Malik? Or…no, it couldn't be. I'm just thinking too much. I picked up more cups and returned to the Hall, where the assassins were being led in prayer by Al Mualim. I stopped in my tracks, waiting until they were done.

"_Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale koulon moumkine…_" the Master intoned. I saw Malik from across the room. He had his head bowed in prayer, but he winked over at me. He was sitting next to another man, with his head bowed deeply. He almost looked asleep. Al Mualim finished his prayer with an _"Aaaahmeeeen"_ and the crowd began to chatter animatedly. I saw Malik nudge the man next to him. Apparently, he _was_ asleep.

I returned to the Masters' table, apologizing for my unseemliness as I set the cups down. I then stood on the sides, where I grasped my tray to my chest like the other girls, waiting to be called over for assistance. I was standing on the outermost part of the line, meaning that I was to be the one to go out on the floor first, should anyone call out.

A hand raised and waved over the crowd, and I sighed, walking over. I already knew who it was—Malik. I straightened my shoulders and stood behind him. "Do you need anything, sir?" I asked.

"Amira, this is Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. I think you two met yesterday?" Malik stared up at me meanwhile, he pulled down Altaïr's hood. The man definitely _was_ the same one from yesterday, though I showed no recognition, with the exception of my eye twitching some. Altaïr look up at me, his eyes partly covered by his hood. Our eyes locked, and I noticed that they actually _were_ golden, and not copper, like I had thought. The gossip from an hour before ran through my mind, and I stared him right in the eyes, curious if I would drop to the floor in flames. I certainly felt like I would. He gave me a nod and turned back to his food, yanking his hood back on.

"Is that all?" I asked, barely suppressing my groan. "Sir." I added on, forgetting my place.

"Yes, I'll see you later, Amira." Malik gave me a smile and picked at his bread, dismissing me. I bowed out, and walked to the middle of the line, standing next to Harim.

"Oh my God! Did you talk to Altaïr?" girls from all around me whispered in my ear. I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling.

"He's knows my brother, and I've never met him. And he didn't talk at all." I turned to Harim, pretending to discuss the fine weather we were having lately. When the girls around me lost interest, I whispered to her, "You were almost right." And she smiled.

We chatted the rest of service, not being called up because we were in the middle. I saw some brave girls walk over to Malik and Altaïr, but came back pale and embarrassed. When breakfast was over, the assassins left, and we were to pick up the cups and plates left behind. Harim stayed by me, and away from the rest of the girls. "Amira!" Marisef called from a table a few rows over. I looked over at her. "Come see this!" I set down my rag and walked over. She was standing over where Altaïr was sitting.

There, carved into the table, was a name—mine. I scrubbed at it with my knuckles, but it wouldn't go away. "Is this a joke?" I asked Marisef, towering over her.

"No!" she squeaked. "I was just cleaning off the tables and it was carved in here! Didn't…Altaïr sit here?" she asked. From the corners of my vision, I saw some girls stop their work and look up.

"No, he didn't. Sand it off." I gave her a Look and walked back to my table, my face red.

* * *

The world went back into the library, and before I had time to blink, I was back in the real world. I sat up, pulling the needle from my arm. I felt strange. Not bad strange…that was the thing. I felt refreshed, focused. I looked over at Desmond and gasped.

Lucy and Shaun were standing over him. Gregory was monitoring from his position at the Interface computer. "What's going on?" I asked frantically, a bad feeling in my stomach.

"Desmond's subconscious is rejecting getting pulled out of the Interface. He's still living as Altaïr." Lucy said, worried.

I walked over by Gregory. He was watching Desmond's vision through the screen. He was talking to Desmond. "Miles, what are you doing?" he got no reply.

"Desmond, what's going on?" I asked the microphone.

"His heart rate is going up…but his vitals are fine." Said Shaun.

On cue, Rebecca said, "Maybe something's wrong with that Animus."

"No, it's Desmond." Said Gregory.

"Do you want me to go back in?" I asked.

"No!" everyone in the room shouted, even Desmond. I jumped at the sudden noise.

"Desmond, what's happening? Are you okay?" I asked the microphone again.

"I…I don't know. I can't move. I don't know how to move."

"Uh-oh…" said Shaun.

"Why 'uh-oh'? No 'uh-oh'." I said, looking up at the Briton.

"He's going into cardiac arrest. Keep talking to him, try to calm him down." Shaun put two fingers on Desmond's wrist, and looked at his watch.

"Desmond, we need you to calm down." I said nervously.

"No, no, no. Just _talk_ to him." I nodded and Gregory got up from the seat. I sat down and looked nervously at the microphone. Rebecca, Lucy, and Gregory were staring at me expectantly.

"Uh…hi." I said. Desmond laughed, and I felt my face turned red. "Uh, remember back when we were by the villa?" I asked.

"Good, keep him responsive. We can't get him out until he's stable." Shaun mouthed to me, his microphone off.

"Yeah, a bit…" said Desmond, his digital voice sounding strange.

"When I was trying to get out of the villa, I was actually thinking 'what would Ezio do?' and I ended up kicking down a boarded-up window. When I ran back to the hotel, I kept thinking that Ezio was going to kill me for kicking down a window in his house." I heard Desmond laugh, and I went on. "And remember when I was trying to get the towel? Your face looked so funny, and I wanted to laugh but I was so angry at you that all I could do was scream at you." I was laughing now, remembering. "Oh, God, you were so weird when I first met you. You said you were going to kill me like four times on the way to Italy. I didn't believe you would, I hope you know. You looked too nice. And then on the way to Rome, you drugged me!" I started laughing, hoping that he would laugh too. He didn't, but I kept talking. "When I woke up, I heard you playing a song I hadn't heard in years. I didn't know it was you, but—" I shuddered involuntarily at the frigid cold in the room. "When I did, I was _pissed_." Desmond was quiet. "Desmond, I need you to keep talking to me. Your body needs to calm down before you can come back." I explained. I saw the guitar on the couch. I rolled the chair back, and grabbed it, sliding the strap over my shoulder.

_You cut me down a tree_

_And brought it back to me_

_And that's what made me see_

_Where I was going wrong…_

"Almost there…" said Shaun, looking from the screen to Desmond to me.

_You put me on a shelf_

_And kept me for yourself_

_I can only blame myself_

_You can only blame me_

_And I could write a song_

_A hundred miles long_

_Well, that's where I belong_

_And you belong to me…_

"Shit!" Shaun said. Something beeped incessantly from his side of the room. That didn't sound good.

"Desmond!" I shouted. "Desmond, it's Alice. My name is Alice."

"What?" he asked from inside the Animus.

"Alice. Alice Valerie Avery. I thought you knew when you played that song, but I was wrong. My name is Alice Avery, and I need you to calm the hell down and get out of the Animus."

"…okay." He said. I heard his body take a deep breath only a few feet away from me.

"Just a bit more, and he'll be right out…Alice." Shaun said. I looked over at him, surprised.

"What's going on?" asked Desmond.

"Shaun is getting ready to get you out." I said, smiling. "You're going to be fine."

"Thank you. You saved my life." he said.

"Not yet, I didn't. Save it when you're out of there." I grinned at him, feeling enlightened.

"Rebecca, can you run diagnostics on your Animus to see is anything went wrong with Alice?" Lucy said, as if she knew my name the whole time.

"On it." Said Rebecca, taking her seat in front of her Animus.

"Okay, extracting." Said Shaun. The screen in front of me went dark, and I stood up, putting the guitar on the couch. I rushed over to Desmond, standing beside Lucy. "Your name's what did it, love." Shaun gave me a half-smile, before returning to the Animus.

"His body is still going through the aftereffects of cardiac arrest. He won't be himself for a couple of hours. Gregory, do you have an infirmary down here?" Lucy asked. I kept my eyes glued to Desmond.

"I'll call the medics. Once he's able to move, they'll find him a room." He said, going towards the back, where a yellow satellite phone was connected to the wall.

"I'm going with him." I stated just as Desmond's eyelids began to flutter.

* * *

_Yay our main character has a name!_

_Onnn to the next!  
_


	17. Chapter 17

_Read the Author's Note at the bottom please...but after you've read this chapter of awesome!_

**Disclaimer: Seriously, if someone reports me for this story, I'm going to bite their fucking head off. I'm totally serious. I own a bolo.**

* * *

"Desmond? Can you hear us?" asked Lucy, her hand on Desmond's arm. A flare of jealousy passed through my body, but it left just as quickly as Desmond opened his eyes.

He started coughing and wheezing, his eyes watering and slit. I breathed a sigh of relief when he calmed down. "Loud and clear, Ghost Rider." He wheezed, making us laugh. Shaun took the needle out of Desmond's arm and started running diagnostics.

"How are you?" I asked.

"Alive, thanks to you…Alice." I blushed when he said my name, and looked away. "What happened in there? I thought you said we couldn't get hurt…" he coughed, and Shaun tossed us a water bottle. I caught it in my left hand and unscrewed it for Desmond.

"We don't know. Nothing happened to Alice in the other Animus, so it must be something with this one. I want to switch Animi next time we're in, to see if the same effect comes—" Desmond choked on his water.

"No. Definitely not. Abso_lute_ly not. Not gonna happen, Luce." He said, shaking his head. "I'm not going to risk her safety."

"But you can't just keep having _heart attacks_." She countered, sparing a glance at me.

"I'm fine with the idea. As far as I can tell, this Animus is exactly the same as Rebecca's. Gregory seems to think that it's something with you." I tried to change the subject, as Desmond was glaring at me with those brilliant eyes of his. "Don't give me that look. I'm an adult! I should be able to make my own choices, whether I like them or not! Do I like being in the Animus? No, I don't, but I do because I know that my place to help save this world is in there, and that's exactly what I need to do! If I'm the Catalyst, then so be it, I am! And what_ever_ I'm here for, that's exactly what I'm going to do, whether you like it or not." I crossed my arms, satisfied by the speech I'd just given Desmond. And I really meant it. If my being in the Animus meant the world was being saved, that was exactly where I was going to be, heart attacks or none, though I rather preferred not to have one at twenty.

Desmond opened his mouth to object, but that was the moment Gregory and three men came in with a stretcher. "What's with the cavalry?" Desmond asked, perplexed.

"Miles, you just nearly had a _heart _attack. We're taking you to the infirmary to make sure this won't happen again." Gregory nodded to the three men, in which two of them grabbed either end of the stretcher and the third helped Desmond onto it (who was still quite pissed).

"And after that?" Desmond asked, crossing his arms while managing to balance on the stretcher.

"You'll go right back in. We have our field agents out there, and they're doing their jobs just as well as you are. And right now, yours is to rest." Gregory silenced any other words that Desmond was going to say by ushering the men out the door. Once they had retreated into silence, I turned back to Lucy, Shaun, and Rebecca.

"Now what do we do?" I asked, not really wanting to be in the same room as Desmond anymore.

"Since those two are running diagnostics, you can play around as Nora for awhile, see if you can get anywhere in her story." Said Rebecca said from her chair. She was watching Shaun idly.

"Did anything come up in your system?" I asked, sitting down in the Animus. Rebecca turned to her laptop, tapping a few keys, her eyes going back and forth rapidly.

"Absolutely nothing. I guess that's what comes from the children of love, I guess." She threw a look over at the other side of the room, when I realized she wasn't looking at Shaun, she was looking at the Animus.

"Okay then…" I held out my arm, and Rebecca stuck the needle in my arm. I set my head back against the headrest, gently being lulled into the Animus yet again.

I fell over in the loading space, thinking there was a convenient chair for me to wait in. I had forgotten that was only in the Interface, and I ended up looking stupid, though I played off like I was trying to sit down.

(Uhh, this next memory is three months after Nora arrives in Florence. Ezio is still not in the picture, though our database says he's in Tuscany at this moment. Nora is currently working with _la Volpe_ and the rest of the thieves as an apprentice. She's training under a man named Eduardo Guerra. No resemblance to Che, I hope?) Rebecca laughed, though I wasn't that impressed. (Okay, just a few more seconds.)

And then I was Nora, my mind only observing as she lived her life.

* * *

"_Signorina _Nora! Messer Guerra is asking for you!" a boy about the age of fifteen and named Mario ran up, his tiny brother at his side. I was sitting on the roof of a building in the San Giovanni district, watching the river's mouth for any arriving ships. I was wearing pants, something I didn't really want to do, but I had to if I were to go on the rooftops.

"Where is he?" I sighed, getting up. I leaned on the nearby rooftop garden and picked at the fraying curtains absently.

"In the market. He said he has a letter for you." Mario huffed in exertion. His brother was bright red next to him. Poor boy, he burned so easily. That didn't stop him from being at his brother's side every moment of the day.

My heart immediately lifted, as it did every time. It might be from Ezio! "Thank you, Mario." I said, planting a kiss on his forehead before he could react. He exclaimed in surprise, wiping his hand roughly across his face. I laughed heartily like I always did and launched myself off of the building and into the river below.

The water around me was warm until I went about three meters below the surface. I surfaced, kicking my legs below me. Eduardo had taught me how to swim a month and a half ago, and he already called me a fish. I waved at Mario and his brother, assuring them that I lived. They smiled from the roof and dashed off, most likely to tell their father what I had done. I was living in the Guild (I refused to think of it as Ezio's house) now, and ever since Mario and his brother had become orphans in a recent fire, I had treated them as my own brothers, and they looked up to me like a sister.

I pulled myself out of the water via a nearby dock, and dashed up the steps, shaking the water out of my hair and body. A breeze passed through the lock and I shivered a bit, running up the stairs. I ran up the street a bit, until I came to a four-way crossroad. I took the left trail, and headed north, towards Santa Maria del Fiore. I could see Giotto's Campanile from above the rest of the Florentine houses, and within a couple of minutes, I had reached the tower and headed west. I passed a house on the way to my destination, and it caught my attention.

The door was carved with angels and depictions of the Virgin. It looked uncannily familiar, though I didn't know from what. I shrugged, and kept on my trail, turning north again but flipping south once I rounded a corner. I jumped over a set of stairs, alarming a group of guards and courtesans.

I ducked under an archway into the Mercato Vecchio, where, as usual, it was flooded with people—nobles, merchants, and thieves alike. I picked out Eduardo easily, because he was always standing in front of the jewelry stall, flirting lazily with everyone with a dress, or maybe just everyone in general—you never really knew with Eduardo. But one thing I did know was that he could talk his way into anyone's bed. It's a good thing I was so helplessly faithful to Ezio, otherwise he'd have had me multiple times.

I walked up silently until I was behind Eduardo. I coughed, making him jump around and stare into my smirking face. "Better. But I saw you when you were about ten feet from me." I sighed, my smirk turning into a grin. It was impossible to frown around Eduardo, he was that handsome.

"You have a letter for me?" I didn't let my emotions show behind my smile.

"Yes. Here, it's from Monteriggioni." My hopes lifted considerably. Eduardo held up a thick parchment envelope with my name on it. My grin fell.

The name was in mirrorscript.

"I assume you know the sender by his handwriting?" he asked. I nodded once and took the envelope from him. "Wait until you're in your room to read it. Don't want to cause a scene here." Eduardo looked around the market. No one was looking at all. I assumed he knew it was of private matters. "Off you go, Nora. That's all I needed." I nodded once again and walked out of the market, clutching the envelope to my chest as I walked southeast from the market, past a wishing well and a herald.

When I got inside the Guild, I sprinted into my room, and opened the curtains and the window, letting fresh light and air into the room. I had changed my lodgings from Ezio's room to Claudia's old one. It seemed to fit me better, and I wasn't as emotionally traumatized by her smell.

I tore open the envelope gently, and piled its contents onto the floor. I crossed my legs.

There were three envelopes: one from Leonardo, one marked 'open second', and the other was marked 'open only in an emergency'. I opened the odd one out and held it up to a mirror so I could read it faster.

'_Dearest Nora,_

'_I have been trying to contact you but the thieves are withholding my letters, by the lack of your responses. I hope that by sending you this larger envelope, they will have a harder time disposing of my other mail. The envelope I marked 'open second' is a special one, but we'll get to that later._

'_I miss your presence in Monteriggioni. I'm planning on moving out to _Milano _soon, but it would be pleasant to see you. It's been so long since I've heard from you, and Ezio is here for a prolonged period of time—he's been trying to get into the Auditore Family Crypt for his uncle as of lately. I—and the rest of the town—have been trying our hardest to keep him here, and this is why this letter is so important. In the second envelope, you'll find _un biglietto_ that goes straight to the Villa—no stops on the way._

'_Nora, I implore you. Even if you hate Ezio, please come to see him. He's been in horrible shape ever since he left Florence. He hasn't been eating, and he's been locked up in his room every day, with the exception of the errands I and the rest of the town are making him do. I'm pretty sure he's become an alcoholic._

'_Please. We all need you to need him._

'DistintiSaluti,

'_Leonardo'_

I read it over again three times, to make sure that I didn't read it wrong. I flipped it over and found the post-script.

'_P.S. And by 'emergency', I MEAN emergencies ONLY.'_

And what was that supposed to mean? I didn't care—I was going to see Ezio! And Leonardo, and the rest of the town! I was going _home_.

I danced around my room, jumping and spinning and laughing as if I'd never laughed before. I settled down and went downstairs to _la Volpe_'s _ufficio._

"You're certainly in a jovial mood." He commented, reading a letter on his desk. He looked up at me, and gave a small nod for me to speak.

"May I take an extended absence?" I asked, unable to think of any other way to say it.

"The thieves finally gave you your letter?" he asked, a small smile pressing to the edges of his lips.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "Please, _Volpe_, _per piacere_…" I clasped my hands together anxiously.

"You may go." He said. I shouted in joy. "But—"

"But? No 'but'. You cannot possibly give me conditions; you know I'd go anyway. You're lucky I'm even asking _permission_!" I exclaimed.

"Will you let me finish, Nora?" he held up his hand. "I said you may go, but…you must promise me not to lie at all, the entire time you're in Monteriggioni. Do you understand me? Nothing at all." His eyes were serious, like he knew I was going to do something bad anyways.

"Why would I lie about anything?" I asked, holding my hands up in surrender from his intense stare.

"Because Monteriggioni might not be as you remembered it. The people will ask you many questions, most of all Leonardo and Ezio."

"Why?" I asked.

(This is like watching daytime drama.) said Rebecca. I could almost feel my body roll its eyes.

"Do you promise me?"

A long silence followed before I agreed.

"Go. I know you won't even pack, so I've instructed the maids to make you a travel bag. And you mustn't wear those clothes you have on now. Go put on a dress and wait for your caravan. It arrives at noon." I looked out the window at the sun. It must've been the tenth hour.

"Understood." I said, bowing to him slightly.

"How long do you expect to be gone?" he asked as I started out the door.

"Hopefully forever!" I laughed, skipping to my room.

The world flashed white as I was thrown forward in time.

"All right. Everybody off." Said the caravan driver, and I swung my bag over my shoulder before I jumped off. I had my hair down, and I shook the Florentine dust from it. I breathed in the fresh country air, and looked around the place I called home.

I walked slowly through the streets—it was about the seventeenth hour, for the driver was arrogant and had a bladder to match. The art merchant, Luigi, looked over at me, squinting through now-bespectacled eyes. I kept walking down the road, heading towards the Villa. I saw a light on in Ezio's room, and a pacing silhouette.

As I walked around the ever-active training ring, I ignored all of the suggestive and perverse remarks made by the mercenaries and thieves. I was just happy to be here.

I turned right, into the Villa's main office. Claudia was absent from her workspace, and the Architect didn't work on Thursdays.

But one man did, staring at a blank canvas all day.

"Messer da Vinci?" I said, announcing myself at the doorway. He looked up, his blue eyes filled with disbelief and relief. He stood up.

"Nora." He said in a whisper. "Thank God." He sighed.

"I didn't know it was that bad. I didn't know anything at all."

"And for that, it's my fault. I should have come to _Firenze_ myself, to tell you what was happening in person."

"It's no problem. I'm happy to be here." And I was. Just _seeing_ Messer da Vinci made my heart swell to its normal size, for it had shrunk when Ezio had left me.

"Please, go see Ezio. We will catch up later. He's in his room."

I nodded and left the room, climbing the stairs silently and without a sound. I walked through the gallery and down the hall, to the small turn that went up to Ezio's room. I set my bag down by the archway, and crept up the ramps and stairs to the ladder awaiting me at the end of the tunnel. I looked up. There was a few lamps lit, by the amount of light in the room. It smelled considerably like burnt oil. How long have the lamps been burning? And when was the last time Ezio had left?

My thoughts were clouded by joy. Ezio was less than ten feet from the top of my head! I started climbing the ladder, but when I got to the top, I was stunned by the condition the room was in.

Papers scattered all over the floor, paintings slashed, empty bottles discarded on every imaginable surface. I jumped as a large book fell off of the now-slashed cherry wood desk.

Worst of all, Ezio. He was pacing back and forth, mumbling in between sips out of a sherry bottle. He was barely clad, and what he did wear was grimy and disgusting. His alcoholism had gained him a slight gut, and his normally golden skin was pale and ashen. The only color in his skin was the redness in his cheeks, due to drinking. His hair was snarled and to his shoulders. I saw the assassin robes in a corner, discarded. Then I realized that they weren't in a corner—they were in a fireplace. Thank god Ezio was too delusional to remember how to start a fire, otherwise his father's robes would be gone. I covered my mouth with my hand in shock, tears springing to my eyes. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I was supposed to go to the Villa, and run straight into Ezio's arms, both of us crying and apologizing to one another.

I couldn't _believe_ I was so wrong.

I gave a startled gasp when Ezio shouted something I suspected to be in a different language, the language of drunkards, and threw the bottle against a wall, shattering it instantly. He whipped around, staggering a bit. I saw that his eyes were clouded, not recognizing me. "Who are you? What do you want?" he demanded, reaching blindly for his sword, which was most likely in the now-locked-up armory downstairs.

"Ezio…" I shook my head, my eyes wide. I still couldn't believe what was happening.

"That's me! Who're you?" he slurred, belching grossly.

(You have no idea how much better this is than _Days of Our _Lives.)

I blinked, hoping the image would go away, and that the real Ezio would pop up, shouting "just kidding, Nora! Sorry for abandoning you for three months without sending a single letter!"

"It's Nora. You know me, Ezio." I said, holding my palms up, reaching out to him. A gesture of peace in this violent room.

"Nora's gone. She left me." He said, turning away, taking a long drink of sherry.

"No, you left Nora." I said, thinking that if I talked about myself in third person, Ezio might understand. "You brought her to Florence so she could be safe. And she was, Ezio, she was. But she missed you so much." I sighed.

"No!" he shouted, tears running down his face. "Nora is dead!" my mouth opened in a tiny 'o'. "That bounty hunter raped and killed her! In her own bed!" he cried, sinking down the wall, sobbing. "And I couldn't stop him…"

I made the mistake of rushing to his side. He flinched back, not wanting to look at me. "Look at me, Ezio." He shook his head like a stubborn child. "Look at me." I said, a little louder, but still just as gentle. Ezio turned his face to me. "Who do you see?" I asked.

"I see…I see nothing." He said, scooting away. I just kept crawling forward until I had him cornered against a bookshelf.

"Ezio, I want you to look at me and think not with your mind, but with your _heart_." I kept my eyes wide, hoping that he'd find some connection within them.

His golden eyes met mine, the cloudiness subdued a little. "I don't know what you want me to see." He whispered.

* * *

_Okay here goes:_

_I'm so supremely sorry for not posting as much as I'd want to. Okay, I'm writing up a hurricane over here, but between working and my restricted internet access, and basically just having other things to do, I'm just lagging. I'm planning on getting more chapters finished and UP, as well as my first story (or as Rebecca would call it, my Baby) Teardrop Bureau. Sorry, Elven, Altair is just working better in this story. I know he's a little OOC, but this is pre-AC1, so bear with me. And who doesn't like non-Master!Altair? I do!_

_Oh, and do the poll on my page. And please don't choose the fourth answer._

_I love you all, so please review.  
_


	18. Chapter 18

_GAH. After much adieu, chapter 18._

**Disclaimer: Don't own AC.**

* * *

(Uh-oh. Gotta pull you out now.) the world flashed white and I was blinking into my own existence.

"What was that?" I asked Rebecca, who was standing up, looking at the door. I followed her gaze, to a scary-looking woman of about sixty. Her face was set into a scowl, not unlike Amira's father's. Her skin was harshly accented in the cold fluorescent light, and she was wearing a pencil skirt and a blazer, and under the blazer was a ruffled button-up shirt. Her heels looked deadly—how could _anyone_ walk in seven inches?

"Who are you?" she asked, in a sheer, high-pitched voice reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard. She was looking straight at me, with her strange blue eyes almost the color of her hair.

"Alice. Alice Avery." I said, in not much more than a whisper. I felt Rebecca tense and look over at Shaun and Lucy, who were standing as well. Was this woman some kind of superior? The woman's eyes flickered in the light. Recognition.

"They're calling you the Catalyst." She said, her lips pulling into a tight line.

"I don't even know what that means." I laughed.

"If they are correct, then you must be the one who has the Templar mommy." She said it cruelly and outright, and I stood up angrily.

"You think you can talk to me—" I began, ready to unload on this lady.

"Alice." Shaun said from behind the green Animus. His stern voice told me to stop, but I instead clenched my fists. No one talked about my family like that. And I mean _no one._

"More of a Catty-lyst, I think…" the lady muttered. I took in a deep breath, biting my tongue hard. I felt the coppery taste of blood in my mouth. I would much rather be dealing with a drunken Ezio Auditore than this old hag _any_ day.

"You needed something, Mrs. Talbot?" asked Lucy.

"A certain Desmond Miles is being given an MRI." I felt my anger turn to worry in a snap.

"Oh my God, is he okay?" asked Rebecca. I was sure I was going to be met with a snarky remark instead of a direct answer if I had asked.

"He's fine, it's just part of the checklist, after an acute heart attack." She said, as if talking about the weather. She actually shrugged a shoulder while saying it, like an cheeky teenager.

"So he _did_ have a heart attack?" I blurted, before prematurely rolling my eyes at her comment.

"Do you have _ears_? That's what I said, wasn't it?" she sneered, tilting her head to the side. I raised an eyebrow at her. I thought old people were supposed to be _nice_. I crossed my arms in the cold of the room. The fact that I was wearing a whorish outfit wasn't helping. "Actually, I'm here to see how my Animus was working." She walked over to Shaun, who walked away, almost polarized against her.

"The diagnostics I ran—" Shaun started, but the lady cut him off.

"The diagnostics you ran were already sent to my computer. I already read them. I'm not checking your diagnostics, Mr. Hastings." Shaun looked shocked, his face turning red. He blinked wide behind his glasses, and looked over to Lucy or Rebecca. Lucy mouthed 'go with it'. "I'm checking exactly _where_ and _when _what went wrong…well, went wrong." I wanted to laugh, but my newfound hatred for the geriatric staunched any sense of humor I had. I looked over at Rebecca, nodding to her Animus. She shook her head quickly, her eyes frantic. Who exactly _was_ this "Mrs. Talbot"? She sounded like some old lady who made you cookies and gave you her jewelry because you looked at it twice. Obviously not.

"Ah. Here it is. I'm putting it on the screen so you can see." The screens above us burst to life, and I saw life through Altaïr's eyes. In the corner, a flash of red—Mrs. Talbot slowed it down for us.

At closer inspection, a red cross was right above Amira's head. The Templar Cross.

"What the hell is that?" asked Rebecca, taking two steps forward.

"That would be a Templar Cross, if you didn't know your history, Miss Crane." Mrs. Talbot snapped.

"Why is it above Amira's head?" Lucy asked, looking at the paused image on the Interface computer.

"It looks to be some sort of breach in the Animus' network. We have our own guys down here, doing work on our wireless connection as we speak, and nothing is for sure secure. So just about anyone can tap in, if they know what they're looking for. This little cross here is just a warning sign, letting us know they're out there. As to the placement, I'm sure you can ask her." She turned her rude gaze to me, and everyone else did as well.

"I don't know why you don't seem to like me, but I'm _not_ a Templar. They blew up my _house_! They kidnapped my father and brothers!" I shook my head, holding back tears.

"And all you're doing is providing Ms. Crane with daytime drama." My mouth fell into an 'o'. I slit my eyes and walked out the door, back down the direction me and Desmond came through. I could hear Rebecca and Lucy and Shaun calling for me to stop, but I just kept walking, the cold floors making me nervous. I quickened my pace until I got to the door. I was _so_ pissed off. That lady just walks in, doubting that I'm the Catalyst, accusing me of being a Templar because my _mother_ was a Templar—_is_ a Templar.

I kicked open the door and went up a flight of steps. I stalked over to the truck that Desmond and I had come here in and I locked myself in, breathing hard. It smelled like Desmond.

I never noticed the book in the back seat until just now. I guess it was just waiting for the moment to present itself. I picked it up, eager to draw my attention away from the problems at hand.

"The Prophecies." I said, staring skeptically at the title. I opened it up to the foreword.

'Dear Reader,

'This book is of great importance. It will tell you of prophecies that have come true and prophecies that will in time. It is sorted by dates starting from the early 1300s to the late 2090s. Behind the list of prophecies is an index showing what each prophecy is referring to.

'Good luck, and know your future.'

I raised an eyebrow at it. I turned to some memorable dates—9/11, for one. Under that entry, it said, 'The twins will fall, and the pentagram will be set aflame. Ash will rain from the sky, and many will die.' I checked the date the book was made. January first, 1987.

"No way." I said, flipping through the pages. I found one under 'Summer of 2009': "'The king will die, his legacy remembered for years to come.' Oh my God…"

I went forward, finding one highlighted in yellow: 'The Catalyst will be given her quest, and the Fugitive will be forced to watch as she suffers in her loss and gain.' Did that mean Desmond? It went on. 'The Catalyst will realize her true power, and many will fall at her feet. Those who object her will be punished, and those who have lied will be tried. The Cross will be torn down, only to become equality. Those Who Came Before will Be once again, and the Catalyst will be destroyed.' The date was New Year, 2015. Six days from now.

I froze, rereading the last line over and over and over again. What did it mean by 'destroyed'? Surely it didn't mean 'killed'…

I flipped to the index in the back. "Cataclysm, catacombs, catalyst!" I stuck my finger on the definition: "A prophesized woman, said to defeat the Templars and bring Those Who Came Before back from the dead. She is an Assassin, born from the blood of a neutral and a Templar. She has powerful skills, including, but not limited to, immortality, expert agility—me? Yeah, right—and…what? Speaking with the _dead_?" I flipped to the next page, but it just started talking about catapults. I sighed and leaned back against the seat of the truck cab.

"Okay, Alice. Are you the Catalyst?" I asked myself. Deep inside me, Minerva, Nora, and Amira told me _yes, you are_. "Let's go test agility." I unlocked the truck and got out, the hot Italian **((you thought I was going to say "men", huh?))** air stuffy and humid. And it was _Christmas Eve_.

The building was just fifty feet away from the car. I took a running start, and jumped as high as I could, grasping for that one handhold just a little out of my reach—

_Crash_. I hadn't taken in the detail of a _trash can _being in my way. I immediately went down. I groaned, rolling around on the hot pavement. A line from the book played through my mind. _Know your future._

"Shut up." I said, standing up and shaking the dirt from my body. I looked up at the building, and then at the ladder a little ways to the left. "That counts as expert agility in my book." I climbed it to the top, and stood with my toes on the edge of the building.

That was when Shaun came out. He looked around the parking lot, then followed my shadow up to where I was standing. "What the hell are you _doing_?" he shouted, looking behind him. Lucy and Rebecca followed, all three of them now yelling for me to get down.

"The Catalyst is immortal!" I said, pointing to the truck.

"Stop talking about yourself in third person!" said Shaun again.

"I'm not! The prophecy said that the Catalyst will be given her quest, and the Fugitive will be forced to watch as she suffers in her loss and gain. The Catalyst will realize her true power, and many will fall at her feet. Those who object her will be punished, and those who have lied will be tried. The Cross will be torn down, only to become equality. Those Who Came Before will Be once again, and the Catalyst will be destroyed." I recited the prophecy word-for word. "And the Catalyst is a woman, destined to defeat the Templars and bring Those Who Came Before back from the dead. She is an Assassin, born from the blood of a neutral and a Templar. She has powerful skills, including expert agility, immortality, and the ability to speak with the dead!" I had memorized the definition as well.

"Alice, the only thing you're going to do is kill yourself if you think you're immortal!" shouted Rebecca.

"I AM THE CATALYST." I shouted. I felt a strange source of energy enter my body, and I knew that the words I spoke were true. My hair blew up around me, and I looked down at my hands. They were glowing. What's going on?

I didn't know, but in that moment, I had the confidence to take that leap of faith forward, and I did.

I may have thought myself immortal, but I didn't think of myself as one that would fly.

I felt myself plummeting to the ground, faster than I'd ever thought imaginable. But then I stopped, about halfway down. The trio was still shouting at me. Shaun was running forward. Lucy was screaming.

* * *

I fell down, down, down, until I hit not the ground, but something even remotely softer—trash.

Everything was black. There was nothing in this void, just endless darkness. I walked around. Water sloshed around my feet. I seemed to be the only thing alive in here, had it not been for the fact that I felt someone else here with me.

I turned around suddenly, and I found myself facing a mirror. In it was a reflection of me, though it was not me, by the way it moved around freely. The reflection of me was waving and smiling at me. She wore retro glasses, and her hair was up in a ponytail. She was wearing skinny jeans and a Royal Blues tee shirt. She motioned for me to come closer. I did. "Who are you?" I asked, putting my hand up to the mirror.

"Don't touch it! It'll suck you in!" she warned in a singsong voice, though she was serious. "I'm Addison—your twin?" she looked at me expectantly, like I knew who she was. I shook my head.

"I don't have a twin. I only have brothers." I said. She looked so much like me…

"Of course. You wouldn't remember me. Our mother drowned and stabbed me in the bathtub when I was three. But as you see, here I am, complete with my crappy vision and indie band tee shirt, just like I would've been if I'd have grown up with you. It seems that my sister is…let me guess. A prostitute?" she tilted her head to the side, her sarcasm making me laugh.

"There was nothing else to wear…" I said, trying to wipe the smile off of my face.

"Of course. You always wanted the better clothes, more music, more this, more that…and I love you, so that's what you got." She smiled, though she looked like she was going to cry.

"Why did you die?" I asked, shaking my head.

"I don't know. Our mother didn't really talk about it with anyone. She had said it was an accident, but I knew what she was doing. Now you know, too. And now, everyone will know. You'd better tell Dad…he always doubted what our mother told him. I guess he got that from his mother." She pointed out, smiling, as if she knew something I didn't.

"He always was skeptical. And Grandma is dead." I smiled sadly. "What is this?" I asked, looking around at the mirror.

"This is the Mirror of the Prophets. Too bad that you only get to see it once, unless you're a prophet. I was a prophet. I think that our mother caught wind of this and that's why she went all Psycho on me. Yeah…it's amazing how well they can clean bathtubs these days, especially just with water. It's funny, I didn't even know what was happening as I was dying. All I knew was that it hurt, and that I wanted my mommy. Too bad, eh?" she said, tilting her head to the side again. I bit my lip.

"Addison…I don't know why I'm here." I said.

"Call me Addy. You always did. I called you Ava, because of your initials." She smiled to herself before I could stop her. "Okay. You're only gonna hear this once, so listen up, okay? Thank God you got that super-memory that I wished I'd gotten when we were eight." She sighed and closed her eyes, telling me my quest. "It is done." She said.

"What? That's it? That's all I need to do?" I asked. She began to walk away. "Addy, where are you going? Come back!" I shouted, tears in my eyes.

"Sometimes the simplest task is the one most difficult." She said over her shoulder.

"When will I see you again? I want to talk to you more!" by now, I was crying.

"I'm dead, Ava." She said. "Use a Ouija board. Or just ask for me in your dreams. I'm always there…"

"Don't go! Please don't go!" I shouted, jolting up from the bed I was in. I looked around at the people surrounding me.

* * *

On my right was Desmond, who had an IV drip with fluids and nutrients going into his left arm. He was holding my hand. His face was worried. Past Desmond was Shaun and Rebecca, observing me quietly with anxious eyes. At the foot of the bed was Gregory, his dark eyes boring holes into my head. On my far left was Lucy, her hands wringing around each other like knots. And on my direct left was Mrs. Talbot, her sharp eyes softened by something. She saw me looking at her strangely and the edge appeared again. I felt immediately irritated. On top of that, my legs were killing me.

"What's going on? What happened?" I asked Lucy, Shaun, and Rebecca.

"You…I don't know what happened." Said Rebecca, at a loss for words. "It was like something from a bad cult movie. But, ten times more cool."

"You…you, uh…" Shaun had tried to explain to me, but gave up.

"Alice, you _fell_ fifty feet off a _building_." Said Mrs. Talbot. Her face was stony, her eyes guarded.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Shaun tried to catch you, but you fell into a bunch of trash." Said Rebecca.

"Tell me, what did you dream about?" she tilted her head to the side, and it reminded me wholly of Addison. Addison, my twin. Addison, my _dead_ twin.

"I…I need to think." I said, pulling my knees up to my chest. I wrapped my arms around them. If hurt, but I didn't care.

"Just tell us who you saw!" Mrs. Talbot shouted.

"How do you know I saw someone?" I asked, surprised. Everyone swiveled their gaze to her, asking the same question with their stares.

"Because I know exactly what you saw." She said. "And I know who exactly you saw. I do not know what she said to you, but it is not a lie." And with that, she spun on her heel and left the room.

"What…just happened?" asked Rebecca, looking from me to the empty doorway to me again.

"Just leave." I said, waves of shock and sadness for the newfound lost and found and loss again of my sister crashing through me. My nose stung.

"But—"

"LEAVE." I shouted, burying my face in my knees. I heard them all leave, except for Desmond.

"'She will receive her quest, and the Fugitive will be forced to watch as she suffers in her loss and gain.'" He said, before leaving.

I began to cry.

* * *

_In my views, it's really short, but I HAD to get something out there._

_Review please?_


	19. Chapter 19

_Yeah so I've got like 4 chapters waiting for you, I'm just spreading them out until I can write more on the weekends. But that doesn't stop me from writing now!_

**Disclaimer: Jeez this is at most a warped storyline sharing the same names. If this was in the actual game, I would die. DIE.**

* * *

I eventually fell asleep in that position, curled up in a ball, with tear tracks staining my face.

The dream was different this time—I wasn't living as Nora, or even Amira. This was entirely my own mind. _Call her_, something said in my head.

"Addy?" I called, looking around. I was in a bright green field, with a stunning cobalt sky. It looked to be midmorning. There was a single tree in the field, a large weeping willow, like the one in Pocahontas, though…less animated. There was no wind. I walked over to the tree. "Addy, are you here?"

"Up here!" her voice called from the tallest branch in the tree. I looked up. She was sitting there, clad in highwaters, her glasses, and a Color Me Monday shirt. She was barefoot, her legs swinging through the air below her.

"How did you get up there?" I called. The lowest branch was five feet from my head.

"I don't know. I just…wanted to be up here. I'll come down." Addy swung like an acrobat to the ground, landing in a crouch. "I would've been a gymnast. Maybe an Olympian. I would flip cartwheels around you on the playground, when you were talking with your friends. You saw me once. You looked up and said, 'why is she doing that?' and everyone thought you were talking about Regina Doyle picking her nose. But I was so excited that you saw me." Addy fell backwards onto the damp grass. I was glad to see that I wasn't in my real clothes, instead in a tight white sweater with a hood and long blue jeans. "Your favorite color was white. I loved watching you in your Beatles phase. White jeans, remember those?" she was speaking like she'd been there my entire life.

"Tragic." **((urhurhur you know what I mean eeew) **I smiled, watching her pull her hair up, for it had come undone while she was flipping down. I saw that the backs of her arms were burnt. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Oh, this? This is nothing. I can't even feel it. I was standing over you when the house had blown. That's why you still have your hair." She laughed.

"You followed me around my whole life?" I asked.

"Not your whole life. I did some investigating on my own time, like when you were asleep or doing your non-anticipation thing. How's that working out for you, by the way?"

"It got me here." I said, waving my arms around. I sat down across from her. "What 'investigating' are you talking about?" I asked.

"Just…so I could know what had happened. Our mother didn't go to any Templar meetings after our births. But something was definitely odd. She would hold the red cross on her necklace, and sometimes speak to it. Like, 'Everything's fine, no one expects' and stuff like that. I assume it was a radio transmitter. And when it glowed red, there was something wrong." She faded off, her mind elsewhere. "I didn't get the chance to follow them after they were abducted." She said, speaking about my father and brothers. "I…I wish I would have, but then you…you might not be here." I reached out and took Addy's hand.

"We'll find them." I said. "Why did you follow me around so much, anyways?" I asked, eager to lift the somber mood.

"I wouldn't call it 'following', per se. I'd call it…being a guardian angel." She said, and I nodded.

"Would you have been an Assassin if you were alive?"

She was quiet for a while. "I think so. I mean, killing is killing and killing is wrong and all, but…I go wherever you go, Ava." Her words hit me hard.

"I'm not—I've never even…" I stuttered, trying to find something to say that would make her stop frowning.

"I know. I know a _loooot _of things about you, Ava. Like your crush on a certain Desmond Miles…" she smiled, tilting her head to the side. I felt my face get hot.

"I—I do _not_ have a crush on him!" I demanded. "It's just the Animus playing tricks on us!" I insisted.

"Suuure…you keep telling yourself that. Okay. If you do _not_ have an absolute _crush_ on him, then why do you let him kiss you and let him get so close all the time?"

"Because he's my protector too!" I blurted. Obviously this wasn't the answer Addy was looking for, because she still held her smirk. "We kissed?"

"Uh, _duh_. Right before you were going to go into the Interface? He was _all_ over you! Oh, and don't count the times that he was standing in your room, staring at you like he wanted to—" _Times_? As in, _plural?_

"Okay! Okay! I get it! Half the time, I was just scared, or confused, and I didn't know what was going on! It was Nora back in the safehouse, Nora in the hotel, and Desmond in the hall."

"What about that time right after Nora's little 'oh, Ezio' moment?" her voice matched mine perfectly. "You said, 'this is me' and oooh, I felt like I was watching the Princess Bride!" she sighed dramatically.

"I was scared. I didn't have a guy within arms' reach, like I did in Ohio." I shook my head.

"You're right. You have two." She said, teasingly. I knew who she was talking about—Shaun.

"I am _not_ a slut, Addy." I stood up, and started pacing. "I don't know! Desmond, he…" I felt my face heat up as I said his name. "He feels like home." I said, not able to look at her.

"He's an _assassin_, Ava. He was _bred_. He doesn't _have_ a home." She said. I felt her stand up next to me.

"That can change. Home is wherever you feel safe. And he makes me feel safe. Desmond _is_ home now." I said, turning to face her.

"What am I, then?" she asked.

"You're…you're my sister. My other half." I said. I hadn't really thought about what Addy was to me. I'd only just met her. "I'll think about it. You're definitely special to me. And I'm so happy to have met you."

But Addison looked sad, disappointed. "Once you figure out who I am, who all of us are, then you are truly the Catalyst. And you will set all of us free."

"What? All of who?" she began to walk out of the shade of the tree, and I woke up.

* * *

I sat up in bed, panting. My body was still cool from the shade of the tree, though I knew this was just because of the slight mist on the floor. I got out of the bed, to see the door closed and a pile of folded clothes on a chair next to me. I changed and slid on the sweatshirt, my arm stinging a bit, and went to the door.

It was locked.

"What the hell?" I said, shaking the handle. I sighed and sat back, surveying the room.

It wasn't unlike the one I had in the warehouse—no windows, dim lighting, bed, chair, nightstand, phone. I sat on the bed, picked up the phone, and dialed zero.

"_Operatrice_." Said a woman.

"Do you speak English?" I sighed.

"Yes." Her accent was strangely American, but tinged with Italian and Spanish. "Do you need something?"

"My door is locked." I didn't know why I had said it, just that it mattered at the moment.

"Yes, it is. I'll unlock it for you if you know where you're going. You wouldn't want to wander."

"I don't know…where is the Main Animus room from my room?"

"When I unlock the door, go left, take the fourth hall on your right, then it's the second door on your right." I relayed it back to her, to make sure I got it right. "Unlocking the door." She said. The door clicked open, swinging slightly on its hinges.

"Thank you." I said, before hanging up. I took the Operator's directions, and found myself in the Animus room, though no one was in it. It was gloomy, without any signs of life in it.

"Might as well just sit here." I said, taking my place in the red Animus. My eyes wandered until I found the guitar on the couch, where I had left it the day before. I sighed and got up, putting the strap around my shoulders and neck.

_Started out as a feeling_

_Which then grew into a hope_

_Which turned into a quiet thought_

_Which turned into a quiet word._

_Soon that word grew louder and louder_

_Until it was a battle cry_

_I'll come back_

_When you call me_

_No need to say goodbye…_

I was thinking about Addy, and the way she had watched over me. I had heard the song at the end of a movie one time, and I thought it was beautiful.

_Just because everything's changing_

_Doesn't mean it's never been this way before_

_All you can do is try to know who your friends are_

_As we head off to the war_

_Pick a star on the dark horizon_

_And follow the light_

_You'll come back_

_When it's over_

_No need to say goodbye_

_You'll come back_

_When it's over_

_No need to say goodbye…_

Desmond had popped into my head, and I couldn't get him out. I realized why I was playing the guitar: it was helping me think.

_Now we go back to the beginning_

_It's just a feeling no one knows yet_

_Just because they can't feel it too_

_Doesn't mean you have to forget_

_Let your memories grow stronger and stronger_

_Until they're before your eyes_

_I'll come back_

_When you call me_

_No need to say goodbye_

_I'll come back_

_When you call me_

_No need to say goodbye…_

"You realize everyone down this hall can hear you?" said a shrill voice from the door. I looked up. Mrs. Talbot.

"Good. I'm great at what I do, so there should be no problem." I turned back to the guitar, and Mrs. Talbot left in a huff.

An hour passed with me sitting idly, strumming chords until I found a cadence between them, when someone walked in. It was Shaun. "What are you doing up so early?" he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose with one hand and holding a steaming cup of what I expected to be tea in the other. "Even I'm getting my six hours in of sleep." He said, swiveling around in his new rolling chair.

"Dreams." I said shortly, doing arpeggios on an F Major chord.

"The hardest part of the night, eh?" he smiled, booting up his computer. "Desmond is in for two days of bedrest, under doctors' orders. And Gregory's. He's not happy, that one. I remember there always used to be this stupid little naïve smile on his face, it annoyed the hell out of me. I wanted to slap him upside the head when he accidentally dislocated his shoulder a year ago, and he was all, 'ouch, that hurts, doesn't it?' like some _robot_." Shaun was obviously very worried about Desmond, though he didn't like to show it. "Sometimes I wish that everything were different. That there were no Templars, no Assassins, no wars. But that's just me being selfish, though I know everyone here wishes the same thing every waking minute of their days. Most of us have lost a couple of friends in the war. The rest? They will." He turned somber, his face illuminated by the white screen on the laptop in front of him. He covered his mouth and chin with his hands. His eyes were indefinable behind his glasses, though I know they were troubled.

"Shaun…" I started, moving closer to him. I rested a hand on his shoulder, wanting him to look at me. "You're doing the most you can. Right now, that's the _best_ thing anyone can do. Your knowledge helps us in ways you wouldn't even _believe _possible. Hell," I laughed desperately, trying to snap him out of his mood. "I'm not even doing the best I can. I should be rethinking my life, trying to figure out what it means to be the Catalyst, but I'm not. I'm sitting here, strumming on a stupid _guitar_ under a _church,_ for God's sakes." I saw something change in his expression, a tiny shift in his emotions.

"'The very best is only good enough.'" He said idly.

"What?" I asked, confused. I thought I had heard the words before, but I wasn't too sure from when or where.

"It's a motto for a toy company in Copenhagen. It means, everything can change. Thank you, Alice. Now get your skinny little arse in the Animus." I felt my tiny smile grow into a grin, and I obeyed, sitting in the green Animus before Shaun. "I'll just log in as Rebecca, and access your latest memory. She kept saying something about daytime drama, I believe…" he trailed off as he stuck the sterile needle into my arm.

I still felt my smile on my face as the white overtook my body first, then my mind.

* * *

_That song was called 'The Call' by Regina Spektor...I love it. All rights are hers, blah blah blah._

_And review.  
_


	20. Chapter 20

_I personally think the green Animus is cooler than the red one. It has a fucking LIBRARY. SUCK ON THAT UBISOFT._

**Disclaimer: Blah blah blah you know the drill I don't own.**

* * *

"I don't know what you want me to see." Said Ezio, his eyes filled to the brim with tears.

(Now that's something you don't see every day…) said Shaun.

"Believe me, it's been happening a lot." I replied, before turning back to Nora.

"I want you to see me. Now, that's not going to happen easily. The first thing we're going to do is get you into a bed, and when you wake up, you're not going to be the same person you are right now. _Intesi_?" I asked, and Ezio nodded. I took the sherry bottle out of his hand and helped him up (with some effort, on both our parts) and had him go down the ladder first. I was worried about him, and his lack of his inhuman coordination and balance, but he made it to the floor fine, looking up at me expectantly. I dropped to the floor lithely, landing in a crouch.

"How did you do that?" he asked, his mouth agape and his eyes wide.

"Practice and control. You were able to do that at one point, and I'll teach you again, once you stop relying on that poison up there." I pointed at his office, and back at him.

"I can't seem to think without it." He admitted, looking down. I held his hand, and squeezed it a little.

"Everything will get better, Ezio. I promise." I watched him look down at the tiny hand in his own, and up to my face again.

"You do?"

"I do." I smiled, leading him out of the hall and down the stairs into my old room, which didn't look like it had been touched since I'd left, with the exception of new sheets and curtains. I gently led him to the dim bed, and pulled back the covers. He climbed in, and within seconds, was fast asleep. I brushed back his snarled hair, and he moved into my touch, a troubled look on his once-calm face. "Ezio…" I whispered, my heart mending and breaking all over again. I leaned over him, and placed a kiss on his forehead, wiping away the tears that fell.

A flash of light and I was back in the loading room. (Seriously, do you want to watch this _Young and the Restless _crap?) asked Shaun.

"Absolutely! It might help you explain some things." I was actually more interested in watching Ezio recover, if he did at all.

(It's a good thing no one's actually up at this hour, and since we have no real work to do without Desmond…) and with that, Shaun pulled me back in.

The next morning, I was up much earlier than Ezio, and I was talking with Messer da Vinci about what I had accomplished. "…and he just fell asleep, out like a snuffed candle." I crossed my arms and leaned back against the wall, my dress falling in familiar places.

"No one's been able to do that. Not for three months." My old tutor said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Why do you think he responded to you?"

"He trusts me. He knows I can fix him, just…not as Nora, for the time being." I looked down, saddened that Ezio didn't remember me. "He thinks I'm dead, Messer da Vinci." I looked back up at him, tears in my eyes.

"Oh, Nora…" he walked over to me, his arms outstretched. I fell forward, embracing him tightly. "I didn't say this was going to be easy…" we just stood there for a while, lost in our own thoughts. I pulled away and wiped the tears away from my face, and forced a smile. "You must call me Leonardo."

"But…why?" I asked, laughing some. It seemed so wrong to do so.

"Because you are no longer my student, or a tiny girl, but you are a woman, and a strong, powerful woman like yourself should be able to call me by my name. And 'da Vinci' is not even my surname." He smiled. I had known this day would come, when I changed my ways.

"You will always be my teacher." I said, smiling wider.

"And you'll always be open to learn." He said. "Now say my name!" he laughed.

"I don't want to…" I whined, my head falling to the side some.

"Say it, please. It will make me feel better." He smiled that heartwarming smile I love and I sighed.

"Leonardo." I mumbled, barely over a whisper.

"What was that?" he asked. I lifted my face up, pleading with my eyes.

"Leonardo." I said, slightly louder. I felt mildly annoyed at the foreign name on my tongue.

"Louder." He egged me on, and I felt like humoring him, so I shouted.

"Leonardo!" I laughed, breaking off into a fit of giggles. My newfound equal closed his eyes.

"You sound so much like your mother." He said, a faint smile on his face. I heaved a sigh.

"I should go check on Ezio." I said, finding my excuse to leave the room.

When I got up to the room, I knew something was off. Something, but I didn't know what. I quickly rushed down the remaining meter and a half of the hall and flung open the door, only to find that Ezio was still asleep. I scolded myself; the window's latch had just come undone in the night, letting in a cool breeze. Spring was on its way.

I sighed and took my seat in the chair by the bed, waiting for him to awaken.

It took an hour or so, but when he finally stirred and opened his eyes, I instructed in a gentle voice, "Close your eyes, Ezio." And he did. "I want you to imagine Nora. Tell me what you're thinking as it comes to you."

"She was so beautiful…" he said, a smile coming to his lips. "I fell in love with her the moment I saw her, jumping over gondolas to get to the side of the river where Leonardo and I were. She was going to fall—I knew this before she had known, and I was moving to catch her, but as I did, I myself fell in. Head over heels, you might say." He laughed a little, before his face fell, his eyes flicking back and forth under his eyelids rapidly. "But I knew we could never be together. I am an assassin, and she was too beautiful to even consider being courted by someone like me. She healed me, with those soft hands of hers, and when I saw her being kicked down like a dog; I felt anger I had only felt when my father and brothers were killed. I took her back to Leonardo's workshop, and I didn't know what to do. Her face was so bloody, and her torso was a mess—all cuts and bruises. I knew what pain she was in, and this made me even more frantic. I didn't want to hurt her.

"But then she had saved my life. She had warned me against two guards I had no idea about, and she ended up getting a horrible scar. Every time I saw it, I felt extreme sorrow." I reached up and stroked the almost-invisible place on my face, a reminder of what Ezio was speaking about. "After that, I tried to help her again, but like before, I couldn't do much more than just wipe blood off of her face.

"Then she came to Monteriggioni, and became Domenico. She was the greatest swordsman I had ever seen, besides myself. And when she figured out that I was there, she was so upset. I had so desperately wanted to tell her, but I know she'd feel betrayed that I hadn't approached her. But she looked so happy, talking with the thieves and mercenaries and Uncle Mario, and I had no idea…I had ruined everything for her when I had nearly killed her in that fight…" I saw a tear slide out of Ezio's still-closed eyes. "But I was angry too, that she hadn't told me about this alias she had become; this different person that I wanted so badly to know. And then we moved to Venice, where…where…" I took Ezio's trembling hand.

"I know. I know." Painful memories flashed through my mind, and I had to close my eyes tightly to blot them out.

"I need a drink." He groaned. "This is hurting my head." He sat up, clutching his head and his stomach.

"Ezio, you can have _water_." I handed him the glass, and he downed it before protesting.

"But…I can't think without it. It's so horrible, my mind feels so mixed up and confused." He gripped his head almost painfully.

"Ezio, drink more water. You don't need any more sherry. Your mind is absolutely fine without it." I insisted, handing him more water. "Drink it." I said. He did, and kept talking.

"Please…" he whined. "I don't know who you are…" he looked like a pathetic child. I wasn't impressed. I was going to get my Ezio back, one way or another.

"Ezio, from this moment on, you are _not_ allowed to drink any more alcohol." He began to whine even louder, and I kept talking. "This is so you can realize who I am. Ezio, you _know_ who I am." He began grabbing at me, trying to physically divert me from what I was doing. I had been thinking about it for a long time, and I knew that the first thing I needed to face was his alcohol problem.

"No, I don't. No, you're just being cruel, and sadistic, and mean, and—you don't care about me!" he wailed. I stood up from the chair, standing over him. He stopped his whining, but an annoying little pout was plastered on his face.

"Ezio Auditore. I never thought I'd say this, but you are acting like a _child_. A tiny, whining, _baby_. You are a _man_. I know who you are, and you know who you are. This is ridiculous. Pull yourself together! You think I don't care about you?" I yelled in his face. His eyes were going wide, and he seemed to sink into the bed. "I _love _you!" I cried.

"Why would you do _that_?" he asked, his eyebrows raising. A bit of stray hair fell in front of his face.

"Because you were magnificent, and charming, and you were more powerful than anyone I ever knew. And I will fix you, if it's the last thing I ever do."

Time flashed forward, to three weeks later. Ezio had not had one drop of alcohol, and he was starting to go outside some, between his lapses of violent times. One of these violent times is what I happened to drop into.

A bloodcurdling scream ripped out of the throat of whom I barely recognized as Ezio Auditore.

"Leonardo!" I shouted, but he was already walking through the door. This had happened four times before, when Ezio had kicked me in the face, or someplace where I was rendered useless in situations like this. The man who strode in was completely calm, and he strutted over to me without a word.

"I just hope this wasn't such a frequent thing that came with helping Ezio." He said to me, Ezio screaming on the bed. From around the man in front of me, I could see his hands fisted in the sheets and his back arched.

"What is all this noi—" a burly, well-built man barged in the room, Ezio still screaming and shouting. Mario Auditore looked down at me by the wall, with Leonardo over me. He looked to the bed, where his nephew was writing and twisting in one would call pain. He then looked closer at me. "No…it can't be…" he said.

"Mario, this is not the time." I said, standing up and going over to Ezio. "Ezio! I need you to concentrate." I said, laying my hand on his arm. He flinched away, his face sweaty and his teeth gritting. "Think of Nora. What would she say?" he seemed to calm down, his mind able to process my words without the aid of alcohol.

"She would say…that I need to grow up." I smiled. That was exactly what I would say. "And that it would get better, though she would be lying." He seemed to laugh, but his throat was so dry that he started coughing.

"You know what I would say?" I asked him, getting down next to his ears. He opened his eyes slightly. They were clouded and bloodshot. He hadn't slept in days. "I would tell you to grow up, and that it would get better. But you know the difference between me and Nora?" I asked. Ezio blinked his eyes, breathing through his mouth. "I would be telling you the truth."

(Jesus, this _is_ daytime drama.) the world flashed forward to a week after the episode. I had talked with Mario.

"Ezio is not in the best shape. Leonardo told me in a letter I got just a month ago, and I immediately came over to see how bad it was. I was shocked. But Ezio hasn't had a drink in the time I've been here."

"Yes, and look what its making him do!" he shouted, making me flinch. "My boy has lost his mind!"

"I know." I said quietly.

"He doesn't even recognize you!"

"I know." Even quieter.

"He thinks you're _dead_!"

"I know." Barely a whisper.

"What are you going to do about it? Just stand there and wait for him to return to normal? Because that's not going to happen!"

"Mario, I know this. I—"

"Then tell me what you're going to do!"

"I'M TRYING TO! Stop _yelling_!" I shouted, losing my temper. I clenched and unclenched my fists, breathing hard. "This is why _you_ cannot fix Ezio. You keep yelling at him, and his emotions are unstable. You must teach him gently, like a mother or a father. _Not_ a drill instructor." I shook my head at him, his bewildered expression going back and forth in my vision. "See what I've done? I've isolated his three main problems—his drinking, his vision of the truth, and his violent impulses." I held up three fingers. "You see what I've done?" I asked, staring him down hard. The light that came in through the archway on my left showed the remaining sunset. The lamps in the office were already lit.

"You're making him worse." Mario sneered, turning away from me, clasping his hands behind him.

"It will always get worse before it gets better, Mario." I explained, holding my hands out in a gesture of peace. "I'm going to need your help, too. Leonardo is helping me because he is Ezio's closest friend. I'm helping because I love him. He's your only nephew you have. Shouldn't you owe him this one thing?"

Mario was quiet for a long time before he turned his head slightly to the side, his blank blind eye staring me down. "Fine. But I must ask you one thing."

"Go ahead." I said, _la Volpe_'s words going through my mind. _You must promise me not to lie…_

"Why did you come here?"

"Because I wanted to ask you something." My previous thoughts returned to me.

"Well?"

"Why did you send the letter to me in _Venezia_? The one telling me about the bounty hunters?" I kept my eyes wide, as if I could see the answer before I heard it.

"Because I didn't want to see you get hurt. If you were hurt, then Ezio would die. And I never would forgive myself." He said, his voice sounding vulnerable.

"Thank you." I said, before walking out of his office to go check up on Ezio.

When I got up to his room, my stomach fell. The window was wide open, and Ezio was gone. Ezio was gone. Ezio was gone. "Leonardo…!" I said, my voice getting louder by the syllable.

"What's wrong? Where's Ezio?" he asked, striding towards the window in three long steps.

"I don't know. I was just talking with Mario for five minutes, and when I came back up here to check on him, he was gone." I explained.

"It didn't sound like 'just talking'. Are you alright?" he asked, his blue eyes finding mine in the dim light. I nodded once.

"We can talk about me later. We need to find Ezio before night falls. Can you tell Mario what's happened, and that we need to block the gates?" Leonardo nodded and swept out of the room. I bunched up my dress and climbed out the window, walking along the perimeter of the roof. I kept my eyes peeled for the shape of Ezio. He hadn't been wearing the armor, and that was locked away as well as the other weapons he used to have at his disposal. Last I'd seen of him, he was wearing a thin white tunic and his normal brown pants.

There. All of a sudden, I was jumping off the roof into a cart of hay next to the house. I climbed out, and ran up a stack of crates until I was on the roof of a nearby house. I leaped and ran across the roofs until I was on top of the church, breathing hard, standing next to Ezio. He was staring up at me, tears on his face. My mood immediately softened, and I kneeled next to him on the old tile, trying to stay balanced but at the same time focus my attention on Ezio. I rested my hand on his cheek, and pressed my forehead against his.

"You worried me." I whispered.

"I don't know you. I keep trying to remember, keep _wanting_ to remember, but I cannot. I _want_ to know you, so _bad_. Because you're beautiful, and strong, and honest, and all the things I want to be. And the fact that I keep hurting you the way I do is killing me. You keep helping, and this _thing_ inside of me, keeps you away. I want it gone. I want it gone so I can be with you, so I can let you help me." He told me, his voice trembling.

"This is why I had to keep you away from the alcohol. That is the _thing_ inside of you. You were losing yourself with it." I explained to him, and he nodded. "These impulses you have to hurt me, and this anti-acceptance you have comes with it. If you fix this problem, you've fixed the other two. And I can't help you if you keep running away from me like this." I said, smiling into his face, my eyes locking with his. "I'm going to help you remember."

I leaned in closely, less than a centimeter away from him. Ezio kept completely still, but not rigid. I wasn't making him uncomfortable. So I leaned in, and I kissed him, just like I used to. Ezio gasped into my kiss, and wrapped his hand around mine on the roof. He breathed into me, and I relished in the fact that he was reacting he was that he used to. All too soon, we both pulled away.

"Please. Tell me your name." I breathed in, knowing he'd ask sooner or later.

"When this is all over, you will know my name. _Promessa_."

(Jesus, I can't take much more of this.) said Shaun in the loading room. (Rebecca, can you put up with this crap while I go vomit?)

(I brought popcorn. Hope you don't mind, Alice.)

In the Animus, I was laughing.

* * *

_I'm pretty sure Ezio's gonna be a douche in one of the next chapters..._


	21. Chapter 21

_Phew! I'm back, finally! It's been long-TOO long. I hope this can compensate._

**Disclaimer: Look! It's Brotherhood! *sneaks to steal rights while everyone looks***

**Patrice Desilets: au voleur!**

**Me: sheeeeeeit...**

* * *

A month passed in Renaissance Italy like a second did in the Animus. I was walking with Ezio out in the garden, talking about whatever came to mind.

"That tree looks strong." He said, pointing to a large tree to the left side of the villa. We walked over to it, and sat on a bench nearby.

"It's been around for over three quarters of a century, Mario's told me." I said.

"Mario. My uncle." He said. He'd been having a hard time remembering who he was, who everyone was, but we stood people in front of him, and they told him who they were. Ezio played along, smiling and laughing at the things they said, but once we were alone, he told me that he only vaguely remembered some of them, and he was talking about Mario and Leonardo and Gambalto, the _mercenari_ trainer. It was surprising how well he seemed to know his mother and sister. He still had no luck on knowing me.

"Yes. Your _zio_." I said, smiling at him. He nodded, happy that he was correct. "At one time, you were as strong as that tree. You were so powerful, you could probably fell that tree with your own hands if you wanted to. But at the same time, you were gentle, and graceful, and sweet." I looked down at our hands intertwined. His hands were warm, and dry. Not like they used to be—cold, sweaty, and clammy all the time.

"Will I ever be the same way again?" he asked. I looked back up at him for a moment, before smiling to myself, looking ahead.

"We'll have to see. I promised you it would be alright, didn't I?" I asked, squeezing his hand. "You're going to be just like this tree. You've just hit winter, that's all. Spring is right around the corner, if you want it to be."

"I do." He said, smiling.

Another week passed, and Ezio was beginning to remember things, like his birthday, his age, his family's names, his friends. His mind wasn't ready to remember that he was an assassin yet. It was best to just take it slow. He still didn't remember me.

There was one time, in the middle of the night, when I felt something upset my stomach. I got up to go see Ezio. He wasn't in his room again, so I sighed and slipped on some boots and went to the church. It was now opened, thanks to him and his allowance, which he was getting back gradually. I crossed myself and went in, finding him in the front of the church, right underneath the cross at the end. I sat back in the second row of pews, watching him sadly.

Ezio was crying. He was sobbing loudly, his head in his hands. He was bent double on the floor, and looked like he was in pain. He mumbled something I couldn't understand. I sat up straighter, being attentive despite the late hour. He struck the floor with his fist. "No, no, no, no, NO!" he shouted, moaning in absolute sorrow.

"Ezio…" I whispered. He snapped his head around, making his hair whip in his face. His eyes were bloodshot and filled to the brim with tears. His cheeks and chin were wet; how long had he been here?

"Why must you always be here?" he asked, his voice cracking all over the place. "Can't you see I want to be alone?"

"I cannot help you unless you want me to." I said.

"Unless you can turn back time, I'm _sure_ I have no use for you." He spat bitterly, his body still shaking with sorrow. I could only imagine what he had just recalled—his father and brothers' deaths.

"I cannot change what happened. But I can change things you yourself couldn't see. You once told me that when your kinsmen were murdered, you were fueled by a rage so vengeful that you killed four guards just to think straight. Ezio, you did not have any time to _grieve_. You need to do this now, otherwise you will become something you do not want to be."

"I'd kill everyone in the world and it wouldn't make me feel better. I'd kill you, too." He snarled.

"That's not you talking." I said. I looked over at the sacramental wine spilled on the floor. "Ezio, did you forget what we all sacrificed for you to stop drinking?" I felt hurt, and upset, and disappointed. "You were hurting the people you loved!"

"I don't care." He said, his mind resigned from his body. That was rude.

"I think you do care. You care so much that you needed to convince yourself you didn't." I knew this day would come—the day when he'd gain our trust, only to knock it down like a pile of bricks.

"No, I don't _care_! I don't care about being me, I don't care who loves me, and I _definitely_ don't care about _you_!" he sneered, his voice echoing through the church. I kept a stone face. "Did you hear me? Are you stupid? I don't _care_ about you!" he stood up, and walked over to me, pushing me away a bit. I regained my footing, and resumed my position—I was a statue. "I _hate_ you. I wish you'd never have come here. You're the worst thing to have _ever_ happened to me." He pushed me back a bit more. "Why won't you react to me?" he shouted, shoving me hard. I had to grasp a pew to keep from falling to the floor. I kept my face strong. "Why won't you say anything?"

I just stared at him, my eyes unwavering from his frantic ones, my body still as stone as his shook and trembled, once with sorrow, now with anger and frustration.

"I DON'T LOVE YOU! I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU LOVE ME!" he shouted in my face. Even though my heart was falling to pieces before me, I kept my chin held high, even as he grasped it and yelled in my face. "You're not even pretty!" he said, smirking, trying to get a reaction out of me. I would stand here all night and take his verbal abuse if I had to. "You're disgusting. You're ugly. I wish you'd never come here. You're a mess. You look like a piece of cheap #!*% I wouldn't even wipe up a table with. You think you can stand here and just say that you're here to help?" he yelled, his voice cracking from the harsh shouting. I thought I heard footsteps behind me, but I just stared at him. "Are you stupid? I think you're stupid. There's something wrong in that stupid head of yours." He knocked on my skull with his knuckles, making me feel dizzy, for some reason. "No, everything's wrong with you. Any sane person would start screaming at me, would run out crying, would hit me, or fight back. You? You just stand there, all stupid and mindless, with your stupid #!*% eyes and your defiance. And you won't even fight back."

Something had clicked in his brain at that moment. "You won't fight back. I can do whatever the #!*% I want to do, and you'll just stand there, and you won't say a word." He twisted his head around in a sick way of examining me. He walked around me, running his hands up and down my sides like some sort of animal. "You're fat. Are you sure you're not pregnant? You might be, I mean, come on, no one is that fat without a reason." He laughed manically, and I kept my composure, riding out the wave before I got back to shore. He moved his hands up to my breasts, squeezing them tightly. It hurt, but I didn't let it show. "These? These are _nothing_. Nothing compared to any other girl I could have. I can have _anyone_. And you can't do anything about it. Because you won't fight back, you filthy little—" Ezio had raised his hand, as if to slap me down, when the most beautiful voice I could have ever imagined appeared at the door.

"Ezio Auditore." Said Leonardo. His voice was stern, and filled with an anger and disappointment I couldn't imagine him ever having. He walked over to me, where I was still standing there, staring Ezio in the eye, and grasped my arm. "I hope you're happy." Leonardo practically growled at the drunken man, leading me away from Ezio, from the church, from everything.

(That was horrible.) said Rebecca, her voice sounding kind of sick.

He took me out of the city, me still staring forward blankly. I heard him say something to the mercenaries, but I didn't catch anything at all.

Leonardo helped me onto a horse, and began to walk me out, around the perimeter of Monteriggioni. I held on with a loose, resigned grip. If someone had pushed me even lightly, I would've fallen off. Suddenly Leonardo took me behind a hill, and held his hand out for me so I could get off the horse. I took it, and I was surprised by how strong my former tutor was. He took my arm, and we walked out to a soft patch of grass. The stars above us were dull, and there was no moon.

"All right. We're safe now." He said. I started crying like I had never cried in my life. I tried to tell Leonardo what had happened, but he said, "I was there the entire time."

This made me feel even worse. I felt disgusting; used. "He keeps breaking my heart. Why does he have to do this to me?" I sobbed. I could feel my dress getting wet from all of the tears I was crying. Leonardo just put a hand on my back, and rubbed it in circles while I cried. I cried my heart out, until I could cry no more, and I threw up in a bush to the side. My sobbing turned into gasps, and the gasps turned into tiny sniffles, and by that time, the sun was beginning to rise. "I still think…" my jaw kept bobbing up and down, making it hard to talk. I took a shuddering breath, and started again. "I still think that he could be down there. Trapped. I loved that man." I said, leaning into Leonardo's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, warm and comforting, like my elder brother would have done. But my brother was in Greece. Leonardo was the only family I had.

"You can love anything you'd like, Nora. You can love a rock, and I would still be happy for you. But when you love somebody who does horrible things like the things he did in that church, I will intervene, as you saw." And slowly, pieces of my broken heart began to crawl slowly back to me. My eyes shone with their return, and Leonardo kept talking, his voice being the mending that I needed.

An hour passed, and the sun was fully up. Leonardo helped me up and I sighed, staring him in the eye. "Leonardo, you're probably going to kill me for this, but I'm still going to help Ezio." I said, nodding to him.

His blue eyes were not surprised. In fact, they were smiling, along with the rest of his face. "Why do you want to help him?" he asked.

"Because I made a promise."

* * *

I felt myself get pulled out of the Animus quickly, almost nauseatingly quickly. I held my head once the HUD was gone, and looked over at Rebecca a second later. She had tear tracks down her cheeks. Shaun was slyly wiping his glasses on his shirt, trying to play it off like he hadn't been looking over Rebecca's shoulder (or at the Interface computer) the entire time.

"That's sort of creepy, you know?" I said, stretching myself out. Rebecca was wiping her smeared makeup away, and she tried to smile.

"That was…that..." She said, trying to laugh, but ending up just spilling more tears.

It's not like I wasn't going to cry. I was ready to just _unload_. Like, bring on the faucets. There was this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I looked around for a trash can.

I spotted one in the corner of the room, and darted over to it, throwing up next to nothing, and bile. I coughed violently, and I felt a warm hand on my back, and I choked out a sob. "This is ridiculous." I said, making myself laugh. I gathered what remained of my spit and attempted to clean out my mouth.

"Apparently the Catalyst is a huge sap. What happened?" asked a familiar voice from the door. I looked up.

Desmond.

"_Fottiti_." I said, standing up and wiping my mouth on the back of my sleeve. The taste of bile was still in my mouth, sour and disgusting. It accompanied the words I used.

"No need for that, love." Said Shaun, from behind me. I looked behind me and rolled my eyes.

"I hate your ancestor." I said to Desmond, pointing my finger right up close to his nose. "He is _so_ evil."

"Seconded." Said Rebecca from Shaun's computer.

"And passed." Said Shaun, kicking her off.

"What'd I do this time?" Desmond asked. The way he was using possessive pronouns when he talked about his ancestors was worrying me, but I didn't know how to get him to snap out of it.

"He broke Nora's heart, and was acting like a complete _dick_. Did I mention he's a recovering alcoholic?" Shaun settled into his seat, smirking at Desmond.

"Can we just go through Amira and Altaïr?" he asked, sighing. I glowered at him still.

"I don't think so, Mr. Bedrest." Said Lucy, walking in right on cue. "Besides, it's breakfast time. Unfortunately, there's no cafeteria here for us to socialize, so we're eating and working. And _Desmond_ is going to take a nice, quiet nap in the temperature-controlled bedroom he so easily snuck out of." She smiled at him, and he didn't move.

"I'm still a part of this team. Emotional support is my game." He smiled and took a hands-free headset off of the wall. I rolled my eyes again. He lounged about on the couch, before taking the guitar into his hands and playing an E chord. He motioned for me to sit in the red Animus.

"Alice was in the green Animus today, when she was having her little emotional moment." Shaun announced.

"And how did it go?" asked Lucy.

"She _what?" _said Desmond. Shaun ignored him and explained to Lucy that all went well.

I quickly nodded to Rebecca, who tossed me a quarter of a bagel. While Desmond was distracted, I chomped the bagel in what I expected to be some kind of record for Speed Eating in an Awkward Moment. (I'd like to thank the kitchen crew, and…)

When I was done swallowing, and the taste of puke was gone from my mouth, Rebecca slipped the needle into my arm without another word.

* * *

I hadn't spoken to Ezio in a week, but I was there. I was buying paints for Leonardo, running errands for Mario, watching the mercenaries fight. If anything, I was ignoring Ezio. He didn't seek me out for anything, and one day, I had an idea.

Borrowing some clothes from the _ladri_ and a cap, I stuffed my hair up into a tiny knot, and covered it with the cap. I nearly scared Mario half to death when I walked into his office. "Mario. Long time no see." I said, winking at him.

"_Nora?_" he asked, bewildered. "What are you _doing_? You're supposed to be having a _break_!" he exclaimed.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I was wondering if I could use the Shianova in the armory…?" I was speaking as Domenico, who even I had thought had slipped away from me permanently.

"Y-yes, of course." He nodded. "Just don't get yourself killed!" he called after me as I walked out of his office, padding lightly across to the armory. I easily solved the puzzle lock that Leonardo had invented (the password was NORA) and went in.

Everything was covered in dust. I quickly found what I needed, and blew the dust off. I exited, and locked the room back up. Guarding myself from the hot and bright sun, I walked out to the training ring silently and stealthily.

Apparently this new mercenary named Nino was quickly rising to the tops of the ranks faster than anybody anticipated, from what I heard. He had only been around for two weeks or so, from what the thieves were saying. I even heard the name "Domenico" used to compare him, but the men from all around shushed the boys that had said it, like my alias was a curse.

"There he is!" someone exclaimed. All heads turned, including mine.

A man was walking up the left side of the stairs, swaggering with pride and dripping with ego. I almost started laughing at the big shiny gold star he wore above his heart—a sign of true honor. He had a handsome face (Domenico _would_ probably admit this out loud) and a strong body, his blue and black tattoos of dragons from the Far East showing proudly on his neck and arms.

"I heard he traveled in the Orient." Said a man from behind me. "He trained there, too." I scoffed as the man vaulted himself into the ring. People around him 'ooh'ed and 'aah'ed. Please, I learned that my second day in the Florentine _gilda_. But mercenaries were trained for strength and strategy, and thieves for their movements and speed. I remembered the third major group—courtesans. They were trained in the arts of deception and illusions, were they not? I remembered that Ezio had all three of these things. He should probably be taught by not just one person, but by many. But this was for some other time.

"I once heard that he—" whatever the gossip was going to be, it was cut off by the man himself.

"Please, please! Stop talking as if you know me!" he laughed, looking around. I noticed the courtesan in pink staring oh-so-very interestedly just then. She had been hiding in shadow. Again, the art of deception and illusions. "I will fight!" he exclaimed. The crowd roared, but I stayed still, my lips turned up into a smirk.

"I will fight you, Nino!" a man cried from the left of me. He was a tall man, almost as tall as Ezio, but he was slight. He looked to be about twenty, his young boyish features beaming as Nino called him into the ring.

"What is your name, boy?" Nino called.

"Luca." He said, raising his sword. I rolled my eyes. You _always _bow to your opponent before you go into combat with them. Apparently neither of the men knew anything.

Within forty seconds, people were helping him out of the ring.

I had noted Nino's blind spots—his left hip, his right shoulder, and his footing. I could outpace him in a running contest. He had a strong swing, but it was uncontrolled, and his rookie skills mainly composed of his stature and his muscular build. I assume he must've lived on a farm. I watched him go through three others, at each one asking their names, strangely, before I felt that familiar twinge in my stomach that meant it was my turn.

"Are there no other _combattadore_?" he shouted, his face red and gleaming with sweat. I pulled myself over the fence, and the crowd silenced. I was way shorter than this man, but what he didn't know was my expertise. I held his gaze confidently. "And you, boy? What is your name?" he asked, leaning over to meet my eye level.

"I believe most of the elder _mercenari_ know my name…and my reputation." I smiled, catching the eye of Gambalto. He nodded, and grinned in realization.

"Gambalto, is this boy good enough for me to waste my time on?" I breathed out evenly through my nose, smirking on one half of my mouth.

"It's best you watch your mouth, Nino. And your back. This _boy_ is quite the little spitfire, and not who you think at all." The man laughed from the side.

I unsheathed my Shianova, and bowed to the man in front of me. "What is he doing?" Nino asked the crowd, laughing a little. He wasn't echoed, or even answered. When I stood back upright, he had taken out his sword as well. I let my face draw blank, my heart hammering in my chest. Basic form and counters ran through my head in the seemingly eternity of silence.

I watched the enormous _mercenario_ carefully, keeping myself balanced on the balls of my feet, probing at his defenses with my blade, watching him carefully for any sign of a coming strike. We circled each other, each step placed carefully, with the crowd watching every second of our slow dance silently, waiting eagerly for the first move.

One of the watching crowd, the woman he was with before, blew a kiss at us, and the hulks eyes shifted, distracted by a pretty face, and I struck. Off balance for a split second, he waved his sword wildly, fending off my strikes with more luck than skill. He quickly regained his balance though, planting his feet and swinging in a nasty upward arc, forcing me to jump back out of range.

He had made a mistake, and he was angry. He charged at me, swinging in short, brutal arcs, making it all but impossible for me to get closer. One of his swings took him off balance enough for me to dive to his left, letting me come up behind him. He turned quickly, bringing his blade around at chest level, but I was already crouched on the ground, and as I felt the tip of my cap cut off, I rose, bringing the tip of my blade up with me, and rested it just below his Adams apple. He sputtered and tripped over his own feet, falling onto his #!*% .

For a moment, everything stopped, the crowd was silent, and the big apes face was fixed in that moment between bloodlust and shock.

"Who are you?" he asked, breathing hard.

"My name is Nora Titanimo! Though some may recognize me as Domenico." I said, taking off my cap, shaking my hair out. The crowd around me gasped, and some started clapping and cheering. Nino seemed to have this look of recognition in his eyes, along with something else—something dangerous I couldn't place. I smiled at him and offered my hand up. He took it, still wearing that strange look. When he was up, I bowed to him again, and turned around to exit the ring.

I smiled, feeling the elation of another victory course through my veins, raising my arms to the crowd, drinking in their cheers. Even as I exulted in the adulation of the crowd, I felt troubled, remembering that _look_ in his eyes, even as I had him beaten...

I felt, more than saw, him leaping at me, and dove to the side as he flew through the space where I had been standing just a moment before. He held a knife in his hand, with some kind of white paste [1] smeared into the shallow grooves running the length of the narrow blade. The crowd around the ring was too thick to try to jump out, and like a fool, I had leaned my sword against the wall.

"Sneaky little #!*% , aren't you?" I grinned, despite the grave situation. I threw a look at Gambalto, but he was talking to somebody beside him.

He rushed at me again, swinging the poisoned blade wildly, (obviously not used to fighting with a smaller blade) and I dove to the left, rolling over the dry, dusty earth. As I rolled to my feet, I coughed, my throat irritated by the dust, but then I smiled, because I'd hit upon a plan.

As the brute charged at me again, and I quashed the urge to shout Ole, and dove again, and scooped up a handful of the dry dirt as I rolled away. I taunted him, "When I'm done with you I'm going to shove that knife so far up your—" I was cut off when he charged at me, screaming obscenities as he came, and I threw the dirt in his eyes, blinding him. He kept coming, and I stepped aside, tripping him as he passed me.

He hit the ground hard, his breath knocked out of him by the impact, and the knife skittered away from his hand. It was only then, as I bent to pick it up, that I noticed the Templar cross etched into the steel.

"Templar." I said, tossing it to Gambalto. He found the cross and stabbed the wood with it, anger flooding his face.

"In Monteriggioni?" he asked, gripping the railing hard.

"They're here for me. I was attacked a couple of months ago." I said.

"Horatio, go get Mario." Said Gambalto, looking up at me. The boy he had been talking to before darted off into the Villa. "I heard about the attack. Mario sent you the letter about your bounty, right?" I nodded. He wanted to say something, but wouldn't.

"You know more than you're telling me." I stated, searching his eyes for something, anything, to give him away.

"What's going on?" roared Mario from the top of the steps. Faster than I'd thought possible with him, he ran down to us, and hopped into the ring. "Who is this _bastardo_?" he demanded.

"He says his name is Nino." Said Gambalto.

"What is your full name, _rotinculo_?" he growled, crouching down. Nino attempted to spit at the man.

"Antonio Banderato." He snarled as Mario held a knife to his neck.

"A Spaniard." I said, recognizing the accent he dropped. "But the nickname places him from _Roma_."

"You work with the Borgia." Said Mario, snarling a bit.

"The Master told me to kill you." Nino said, looking straight at me. I crossed my arms.

"I'm flattered." I mumbled angrily. Gambalto was shooing a bunch of young mercenaries and thieves away from the scene.

"Did your Master happen to tell you _why_?" asked Mario.

"She will ruin _everything_!" he screamed. "She will end the world, and everyone will fall at her feet, she will die, or we will face the conse—"

"I've had enough of this." Said Mario, stabbing the man in the throat. I closed my eyes and turned my head away, the sound of blood burbling out of the man's throat making me feel uncomfortable. A strong hand grasped my arm, and I was tugged out of the ring. I gave a cry of alarm as this was being done, for I had not felt anyone come up behind me. My eyes flew open, and I shook myself out of the person's grip.

I whipped around, and stared into the face of Ezio. I straightened my back and bit my tongue from saying anything nasty. "I'm sorry." He said.

"What?" I asked, a little snappishly and rudely.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for calling you all those things, and I'm sorry I said I don't love you. I didn't mean any of that. Nothing at all." He had tears in his eyes. I felt some spring to mine, despite the smell of blood that hung fresh in the air. He embraced me tightly, his arms shaking. "Nora, I remember _you_."

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_[1] Paint was usually made with arsenic compounds, and women would use white paint sometimes to give themselves a pale complexion, hence the term "drop dead gorgeous" or this could be due to the blood letting... who knows, they did some funky stuff back then... anyway, that is why the smeared paste is white._

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_HUGE thanks to my buddy Camilo, who wrote the fight scene for me._

_I know it's been awhile since I've posted anything, okay a LONG while…and I'm sad to say that I have no excuse for you all besides classwork and all that jazz. I hope to post sooner rather than later, and get some more Amira chapters too!_

_Also as a side note, go check out __**RAINBOW26V**__'s fic series, Truth: Altaïr: We Share The Same Sky. It features bits of references from this story, and you'll see some of Amira in it too! __**R26V**__also has a follow up to that story called Truth: Ezio: Vox Populi, which follows around another girl from Ezio's time. The plots and themes are EXTREMELY closely related (actually, __**R26V**__ had asked me if she could borrow some of the ideas, and I was so flattered by how she had actually ASKED [see plagiarism issue, Chapter 4] that I, in fact, encouraged it!) and I can't wait to see the outcome of it._

_Okay, I hope you're all excited! Now express it in a review! Even if your review says 'OMG THAT WAS SO HORRIBLE EZIO ISN'T THAAAAAT MUCH OF A #!*% BAG' I still encourage it. Reviews are love 3_


	22. Chapter 22

_Hey guys! Guess what? I live! Well, it's winter break, and I've just realized that I have a buuuttload of time on my hands! Might as well go through my fanfiction folders, right? I have about 5 chapters ready for uploading, but I'll only give you 2 at the moment :)_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed or any of the characters herein.**

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(Yesss!) said Rebecca as the loading room came up again. She was finding a better memory. Either that, or they were about to have sex again. Damn Italians.

(Wait, what happened?) asked Desmond. Shaun, Rebecca, and I began talking all at once.

(Well, when Nora came back to the Villa—)

(Ezio was an alcoholic, and he didn't remember anything—)

"But then Nora was all Dr. Phil on him, and then he remembered all of a sudden." I finished.

(Thank God I skipped that memory.) Desmond groaned. I could barely hear him playing the guitar in the background.

(Actually, Ezio was probably so incapacitated that he didn't recall much more than being a dickhead.) said Shaun. I wanted to smack his little British face…

(That's comforting.) said Desmond.

(Okay, Alice. We're going to put you into a memory that—oops, we have just run out of memories for Nora. She's preggo.) Rebecca interrupted herself.

"And you can't see their lives after then?" I asked. I wanted to know what had happened to Ezio in that chamber!

('Fraid not, love. Unless you'd like to hear nine months of untranslatable womb noises.)

"Damn it!" I shouted. I started pacing around the loading room, pissed. "Well what about Nora's kid?"

(A son, I'm afraid. We can only put you through memories in which you can actually _live_ as.) I wanted to hit something. (Well, seeing as we have nothing else to do…) I felt the familiar surge of energy as I was leaving the Animus.

Well. That was it for Nora, I guess. There were so many memories I wanted to still see. I wanted to know her better. I sat up shakily, grabbing the Animus for support. My vision seemed to straighten out for a second before all the blood rushed out of my head.

Someone shouted my name as I collapsed to the floor.

I was back in the wonderful meadow with the willow tree. It seemed to be warmer, like the time right before summer but still in spring. My first thought was to call for Addy, but something stopped me. I walked into the shade of the willow tree, and someone was already there.

She was wearing a dress that went down to her ankles. It was gray, and quite boring, were it not for the red sash going around her middle. I didn't have to see her face to know it was Nora. "Nora?" I asked. She turned around and smiled at me. With the exception of her dark hair and eyes, she looked exactly the same as me.

"Alice." She responded, her voice thick with her accent. I hoped that she spoke English, because my Italian was down to only a handful of words and phrases that had slipped past Rebecca and her translation tool. "You're here." She said. I sighed, smiling. She spoke English.

"I am. Why are you?" I asked. She laughed, sitting down in the grass.

"I've been here for five four hundred and fifty-three years, Alice." She smiled, wise beyond her looks. "Have you figured out what I am?" she asked, her bright brown eyes smiling.

"You're my strength. My passion. My romance." I said, smiling at her and laughing.

"You are one step towards being the Catalyst." She said, starting to walk out of the tree. I ran up to her, and asked her a question. She sighed, and closed her eyes, still smiling. "Yes. Yes you can. All you have to do is think about it."

She walked out, and I was never to see her again.

I jolted out of my vision, gasping. I sat up quickly, and hands held me down. One voice in particular stood out, capturing my attention. "Alice, you need to calm down. You're having a seizure." I was having a _what_?

"No I'm not. Shut up." I said, my mind snapping back into place. The people around me started laughing nervously. Nora's words still rang in my mind. I took a deep breath, and found Desmond's eyes. I was smiling at him, but he looked genuinely worried. "Your face is going to freeze like that." I said. "Help me up?" I asked Shaun and Lucy, who were on their feet. They held out their hands and I grasped them, pulling myself up. "So what happened? Did I faint?"

"Looked like it. Your body started twitching for a few seconds, and Miles over here starts flipping out of his mind," Desmond started growling at Shaun, getting up himself. "And a less than a minute later, you're fine and dandy and back to your sarcastic self." Shaun finished with a shake of his head, mussing up my hair a bit.

"But I want you to get to the infirmary, to have a _doctor's_ opinion." Said Desmond, pushing me out the door. I waved to the people in the room before Desmond turned a corner. We walked in silence for awhile, him tugging my wrist through the various tunnels. Geez, how far did this place reach? Suddenly he turned for a door, and unlocked it using a key. He pulled me in and sat me down on the bed. It looked exactly like my room, but he had the backpack with the computer on the chair. He set the bag down and took his place in the chair, his knees apart, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. His eyes were looking straight at me.

"This isn't the infirmary…" I said, shifting back on the bed a couple of inches.

"No it isn't. This is my room." He kept the same monotone voice I knew from Ezio, when he was either really worried or really upset. Desmond seemed to be both.

"What's wrong?" I asked, leaning forward.

"I was so worried about you. I thought you were dying." He said, breaking my stare and looking down at his hands. I stood up, and took his hands in mine. I pulled him up, and I looked up at him.

"Thank you for worrying." I said, planting a kiss on his lips. You know what? Addy was right. I _do_ have a super-crush on Desmond. And the reason I kept letting him kiss me was because it felt _good_.

His arms wrapped around me, deepening the kiss. Our hands intertwined slowly, like coiling vines. His lips were soft and warm on mine, and he sighed contentedly into my ear, making me shiver, before he let me go.

"It's not professional of me." He said, looking away from me. He still held my hand gently.

"Everything is permitted." I said the line he had said long ago, in Florence. He laughed.

"How do you remember me saying that?" he asked.

"It stuck." I said, pulling him forward. I kissed his lips softly once more before releasing his hand and stepping backwards. "Just like I'm stuck with you, forever through time."

Desmond slipped a hand behind my neck, and tilted my head up to look at him. "You're so beautiful." He said, making me blush. "You're always beautiful."

"You're always flattering." I said, smiling. "And incredibly hot, I must admit." I laughed and looked away from him.

"Okay, I'm not good with this sappy stuff, but I seriously haven't felt something like this in a long time…maybe never in my life at all. All I know is that you make me happy, and glad that you're here. I'm glad that I saved you from your house. I'm so happy that you're not dead. And I'm so happy that you're mine." I smiled at the way his face turned red and his expression became bashful.

"Always." I whispered to him. He sat me down on the bed, and took his place next to me.

"What did you dream about yesterday?" he asked. "When you had collapsed in the parking lot." I remembered my encounter with Addy in the Mirror of the Prophets, and bit my lip thoughtfully. Should I tell him?

"Will you promise not to tell anyone?" I asked. Desmond nodded after a moment's consideration. "I met someone. I visited this weird…purgatory." I said, shaking my head, unable to describe it. "There was a mirror there, the Mirror of the Prophets. But I'm not a prophet. I'm the Catalyst. But somehow, I'm connected to the prophets."

"Who did you meet there?" he asked.

"My dead twin sister. Addison. She was killed by my—_our_ mother when we were three. She'd been watching over me my entire life, and I'd only seen her once or twice before, but I didn't know who she was until I had that vision. It was so crazy—I couldn't believe that my _mother_, who I _loved_, could be driven to murder her own _daughter_." I took a deep breath, unable to look Desmond in the eye anymore. "She protected me. And while I grew up in the world, she was right there next to me, growing as well. She's twenty, just the same as I was. Well, the same, if she were alive at all." I added the last part softly. "But then she gave me my quest. And I can't tell you what it is until I've completed it." I said when Desmond had opened his mouth to ask.

"But you're going to need help." He objected.

"I know." I held his hand tight in mine. "But this is something I have to do alone. You can't protect me all the time." I admitted.

"I'll protect you as much as I humanly can, and even then, I'd do whatever I can to protect you." He vowed. It all sounded very chivalrous, but very stupid if you weren't hearing the whole conversation.

"But there's more. I can only complete my quest if I am the Catalyst." I said. "The last time I saw Addy, she had told me to 'find out who all of us are' or something like that. I didn't know what she meant until just now. Nora was in my dream, just a few minutes ago. She had asked me who she was, and I told her that she was my strength, and my passion, and my romance." I had desperately not wanted to tell Desmond that last part, but it was all or nothing, I guess. "Then she told me I was one step closer to becoming the Catalyst. I'm guessing that I have to figure out who Amira and Addy are in order to fully be who I'm prophesized to be. I once read that in your past lives, you keep adding bits of your soul and pieces of your character, so you're just a big puzzle. I'm unfinished, is all." I smiled, glad that I was figuring things out by just voicing my thoughts.

"That's a very good explanation. And exactly why I need to get back in the Interface with you." I stood up, angered. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.

"Is that all you need me for? So you can be Altaïr for a couple of hours a day?" I hissed. I shook my head in disbelief, suddenly wanting to be away from him.

"No, Alice, that's not what I meant—I'm trying to help you!" I scoffed and left the room, retracing my steps until I found myself in the Animus room again.

"Is everything okay? What did the doctor say?" asked Rebecca.

"I'm fine. Hey, is it possible for me to be Amira _not_ in the Interface?" I asked.

"It's possible, but it's going to be more random, like when you were living as Nora." Said Lucy. "And we need Gregory's permission, because it's his operation."

"Then call Gregory." I said, as if the answer were so easy to see.

"Why are you so anxious to get in the Animus all of a sudden?" asked Rebecca, her expression worried and curious.

"Because sometimes, ancestors are easier to put up with than their great-great-grandchildren." I smirked, sitting down in the Animus.

"I was actually just going up to get something to eat…you should eat something too, you don't look too well…" said Shaun from his Animus. I was going to object that we already had lunch when he got up, and I was forced to follow him, because Rebecca had crossed her arms, unwilling to do anything. I would sooner stab myself with the needle than choose to cross her authority.

As Shaun and I walked down the hall in silence, I sensed that he wanted to ask me a question. I beat him to it. "Do you trust Desmond?" I asked, stopping. He followed suit, and turned to face me.

"With my life. Do I like him, no." he replied automatically. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know if I can…" I looked off to the side.

"If there's one thing I've learned from being around him for two years and two months, it's that he's honest…if insanely naïve." He shook his head, and we began walking.

"Would you trust him to keep a promise?" I went on, not meeting Shaun's interested stare.

"Desmond doesn't talk all that much, and when he does, he never gossips. It's one of those things you're grateful for in a person. Whatever you may or may not have told him is safe." He nodded, and turned into the kitchen.

It was relatively small. Not as small as mine or Desmond's room, but not nearly as large as the Animus room. There were four fridges lining the walls, and two sinks. I spotted a microwave and a coffee machine behind one refrigerator. An island with some bar stools stood in the center of the room. Cabinets and cupboards lined the walls, and shelves hung nearby a stove/oven combo. "So, here's the only time I'm going to explain it—snacks, drinks, produce, meat." He slapped his hand on each of the gleaming refrigerators. "Baking, cereal, cereal, cans, cans, can, cans, liquor, weapons and ammunition, more cans, sweet crap." He went along the top row of cabinets. Walking back to me, he said, "Pots, pans, plates, silverware, plasticware, cleaning stuff, dishwasher, cans." He let his hand drag along the bottom row of cupboards. "You get all that?"

"I know where the cans are. And the produce. And the baking stuff. And the weapons." I smiled, kidding with him. He scoffed and pulled down a tub of orange chicken, and stuffed it in the microwave with a paper towel over it. I watched it turn around slowly, the loud _whhhhhhhhirrrrrr_ of the microwave reminding me of home. I decided to peek into the produce fridge, expecting microwavable foods. I was genuinely surprised.

There were _tons_ of different fruits and vegetables, in all shapes, sizes, and colors. I blinked, and opened the door further, the cold of the fridge mixing in with the cold that was everywhere else. It must cost a _fortune_ to keep this place at a controlled temperature. Well, the Templars invested in medicine and death and destruction, while the Assassins invested in fresh food and the Thermostat. I grabbed myself a bright-yellow banana, and walked over to the drinks fridge, pulling out an almost-expired bottle of NALU. It was a type of soda they had in Amsterdam that tasted like mangoes and lime. I popped the cap and took a seat at the island, where Shaun was picking at his orange chicken.

"Heard somewhere that over half the nutrients leave the food when it's not directly prepared." I commented. I remember seeing it on some site that boasted its health facts. I was waiting for the inevitable "bollocks" from the Brit in front of me, but it never came.

"So what's going on between you and Desmond?" he asked, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth. I peeled my banana, stalling. "You two are totally obsessed with each other, but you seem to really piss each other off."

"That happens more often than you would know. Between the whole Ezio fiasco, and now this Altaïr guy, I don't really know if I can take more of this strain." I said, evading the answer. Shaun caught this.

"You didn't answer my question. You merely commented." He said, chewing thoughtfully. I did the same with the banana, washing it down with my NALU.

"Okay, yes, I have…a crush on him, but I'm so confused, between Nora's memories, and now Amira's initial attraction to Altaïr, who _just happens_ to look exactly like Desmond…I can't tell if it's real feelings or just the Bleeding Effect." I took another bite of the banana, my stomach churning unpleasantly at the prospect of all those things Desmond said being a lie.

"This is all very sappy, you know? Just screw him and get it over with." He said, eating more than necessary. Obviously he wasn't going to like my response.

"What?" I exclaimed. "How could you _say_ something like that? That's so insensitive! I mean, would _you_ just 'screw him and get it over with'?" I asked. I had let my ramblings run longer, so Shaun could have the time to chew and swallow, but I ended it just as he was about to stab another piece of gooey chicken, giving him no option but to speak. He set down the fork in the bowl, lacing his fingers together, and rubbing his temples with his thumbs.

"Alice, please stop yelling." He groaned. I sat back down and ate the rest of my banana angrily. "Okay, no, I wouldn't do that. I would…I would actually be freaking out every waking minute out of the Animus. I'm surprised you can even handle it as well as you are at the moment. I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it." His words made me feel better, and I felt my face soften, as much as I'd wanted to pull off Nora's Stony Face of Death.

"Does Desmond ever lie to you guys?" I asked, sipping the sweet NALU.

"No, no he doesn't. It's sort of odd how he's like that. He can keep things from us, but he won't lie, when asked a question. I'm sure you've noticed this." He nodded his head once and ate another piece of chicken.

"I…I've never really thought about it." I admitted. The whole reason I was asking was because "He said I'm beautiful."

"God, are you one of those silly little bitches that has a self-image problem?" he asked, his face shocked. "It's hard enough trying to keep Desmond from jumping all over you." He laughed.

"After Ezio's little fiasco, I beg to differ." I said quietly, swirling around the last couple of ounces of the NALU in the glass bottle it was in.

"Yeah…that was horrible." Shaun said, shaking his head. "That never should've happened. You shouldn't have seen that, just like in Venice."

"And don't even bring up Venice." I said bitterly, breathing out loudly.

"Sorry. No one ever said this was an easy job, and that's one of the reasons I took it. I was going to see things that would haunt me, and I have. I know I have. After that first time in Florence, when the Animus wouldn't let you out, and you were just gasping in the chair, and you were screaming after a few seconds. Desmond was going to have a goddamn heart attack if we didn't get you out. Then I saw you on top of the building, and you just…oh, God, I can't even think about what would've happened if you'd been one percent less lucky…" he leaned his head forward onto the cool granite slab on the island, the tub of chicken long forgotten. He knotted his fingers in his chestnut hair, hands shaking a bit.

"Shaun, are you alright?" I asked, reaching my hand out for him. I rested it on his forearm. His skin was cold, most likely from being in the Animus room for so long.

"I'm fine." He mumbled, not looking up. "I'd like to be alone for a bit." He said. My hand left his arm, and I went outside, trying to retrace my steps back to the Animus room. I realized something just as the light from the room and the chatter of Gregory, Lucy, and Rebecca drifted towards me. I started running.

"Did Shaun ever have a prophecy given to him?" I blurted out once I got in the room. I was holding onto the doorjamb, steadying myself from running so unexpectedly.

"What?" asked Rebecca. I repeated the question. "I don't know. Maybe. I think so." Said Rebecca. "Mrs. Talbot came in today, when you were being Nora. She told everyone to leave, and she talked to Shaun. When she was done, his face was all pale and he kept staring at you…" she said, trailing off.

"He _was_ acting a little weird a couple of hours ago." Admitted Lucy.

"There's always something off down here. I don't know if it's the temperature, or maybe the close confinement, but it gets everyone hyped up. It's in the blood of assassins to be claustrophobic and paranoid." Explained Gregory from his seat at the Interface computer next to Lucy. "Why do you ask?"

I swallowed a little bit, and told them what Shaun had told me. When I was done, Rebecca had a pale face, Lucy was wide-eyed, and Gregory was pacing. "I have to talk to Mrs. Talbot…" he said, before leaving.

"Wait—weren't you going to ask—?" Lucy cut me off.

"We have the okay. I just need to think for awhile…" I regretted opening my mouth in the first place, knowing full well that I didn't need _another_ guy problem.

"Here. I'll set you up as Amira." Said Rebecca, ushering me over to the Animus. In a low voice, she told me, "Shaun's fiancée died on Christmas, four years ago." Her voice was rushed, and in a whisper. "No sweat." She gave me a small smile before sticking the needle into my arm, and I fell into the white.

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_Oh gosh I missed you guys._


	23. Chapter 23

_Double post!_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed.**

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A week had passed since I had seen my name carved on the table. I was counting off the days to my engagement, my stomach falling lower and lower by the minute. I was sitting on the roof again, watching the sun rise before I had to leave for work, when I felt something crawling up the side of my house. I stood up, ready to lash out or run away, screaming, when the assassin pulled himself up. I breathed once, not having to say or see anything to know who it was—the intensity of his stare told me who it was instantly. "Assassin." I said, greeting him.

"Amira." He said, his gruff voice calm and neutral. "Malik wanted me to ask you something." He said. I could detect bits of a lie in his words.

"Well?" I asked, when he was silent for a couple of strenuous seconds.

"He wanted to know if you really were going to marry Nabih." Altaïr swayed on the spot, and I felt his eyes tear away from me for a moment, like stepping into the shade on a hot day.

"I believe that those matters are things I can discuss with my brother in person, thank you." I answered bitterly.

"Malik won't be here for quite some time. If you tell me, I'll find him instantly, instead of having him wait for you to be engaged before he knows what your intentions are." Altaïr grunted. This was the most he'd ever said to me at one time.

"Tell him that he'll have to wait and see, and that if he asks about it again, I will most likely be suspicious." I said, before striding past Altaïr and flipping myself off the roof and swinging into my room yet again. I sighed as I closed the window. I had missed the sunrise.

Later, while I was serving, Malik called me over yet again. I sighed and motioned for him to wait until after breakfast to talk. Mistress Amanjot kept scolding me for idle talk with my brother during work, and who was I to treat myself like an equal of theirs. I just bit my tongue and said it wouldn't happen again.

I noticed that Altaïr wasn't at breakfast.

After I'd cleaned up my minimum share, I asked Harim to cover for me while I went back to my house for something.

When I got there, Malik was already in my room, pacing. "You're going to get me in trouble, brother!" I hissed at him, trying not to alert our parents that I was home.

"Are you going to marry Nabih?" he asked urgently, wringing his hands nervously. Something clicked in my brain. Altaïr hadn't asked for Malik this morning. Who was he asking for, then…?

"I certainly hope I won't." I said quickly. "I would do _anything_ to get out of this engagement." I said.

"Good. Meet me by the Cyprus tree when the sun has fully set." He said, before leaving. Just as quickly, I did the same, rushing back to the castle to complete my work.

"Where did you go? Who were you with?" asked Harim when I returned. She gave me back my rag and I told her I was with my brother, that he was asking questions about my marriage. "You're lucky you have a brother who looks out for you. All I have is a whiny younger sister." She laughed.

"Believe me, it can be stressful, brothers can be." I admitted, my thoughts not coming together the way I wish they would have. Something was going on with Malik. He was more anxious than I had ever seen him at one time, and before…with Altaïr…no. I couldn't be thinking about him.

When work had finished for the day, I walked back to my house, deep in thought. I almost didn't notice myself being pulled into a very dark alley, warm hands around my waist. Slobbery lips were suddenly on mine, and I pushed away, trying to scream. "Oh, my bride, do not play these games…" said Nabih, towering over me. I tried to kick at him, or scream for help, but he just used his own legs to stop mine, he bit down hard on my neck, held my hands above my head in one of his, and covered my mouth with the other. I felt myself get dizzy when Nabih drew blood from my neck. It hurt, yes, but I didn't like blood—the smell, the look, even people talking about it. Nabih felt me shudder from under him and he laughed low in his throat. I tried to jerk my head away, but his hand was too strong. I realized the reason I was so dizzy was because he had covered my nose as well, and was cutting off my air. "You're mine…" he growled, licking a line of spit down my neck. His tongue felt disgusting on me. I jerked my body away from his touch, but he just gripped my hands harder, making me cry out from behind his hand. That was definitely going to bruise.

Suddenly, someone turned into the alleyway. I pleaded with my eyes, but all I was met with was white fabric. Nabih didn't seem to have noticed at all. He continued biting and licking at my skin, and I felt like I was going to vomit. He moved his hand quickly from my mouth to my throat, squeezing slowly and powerfully, like a snake. "This…" he huffed, "Is supposed…to bring…pleasure." I felt tears rolling down my face, and _Icouldn'tbreatheIcouldn'tbreatheIcouldn'tbreathe_.

With a roar of anger, the assassin in white threw himself at Nabih, knocking him off of me. I fell to the ground as they scuttled in the deeper part of the alley. I coughed hard, trying to get air to return to my lungs. As soon as I had accomplished this, I shot out of the alley like an arrow, and sprinted down the hill, sobbing. I found Malik in the crowd and launched myself at him, clinging to his robes for dear life.

"Amira?" he asked, shocked. He pulled me closer to the gate, as to not create a scene. "What is going on?" all I could do was shake my head and sob and cough. "Amira, I need you to tell me what happened."

"She was attacked, Malik." Said a voice from behind me. I darted around to the other side of Malik, hiding behind his body. Through my blurry vision I saw that it was an assassin—the one that had saved me! "Her fiancée grabbed her while she was walking here." The voice was that of Altaïr's. Had he been following me?

"Why?" asked my elder brother, taking my trembling hand and pulling me forward.

"Hard to tell." Said Altaïr, looking over at me. "You're bleeding." He said, rushing forward. I flinched back from his calloused touch as he probed the bite on my neck. It hurt even more now, and I clamped my hand over his. He retracted his hand, and I looked up at Malik, scared.

"Here." Said Malik, pulling out a strip of white cloth. He fastened it securely around my neck, but not chokingly like Nabih had done. "Altaïr, I'll take her bag." My brother said, and Altaïr tossed him a canvas bag roughly the size of my torso. Malik wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "Why do you think Nabih attacked you?" he asked once we were outside of the gates. Some Masyaf guards watched us suspiciously. Altaïr waved them off.

"I don't know. He's a slimy creep." I said.

"All the reason you should leave faster." Malik said, leading me over to the hitching post for horses. Altaïr had pulled over two—a large black steed, and a slightly smaller brown steed with spots of white. The Masyaf horses were known for their wild looks, but when in the hands of the deadly assassins, they were calm and compliant. The black steed looked me in the eye, snorting. "Amira, ride with Altaïr. I'll explain when we stop. Altaïr, you know the plan." All of a sudden, Malik left me, and went over to the brown horse. Altaïr pulled me by my hand over to the other horse. Malik had already torn out of the stables, and Altaïr got on the horse.

"Where is he going? Where are we going?" I asked, breathing quickly.

"Just take my hand. You'll be safe as long as you're with me." He said, offering his hand to me.

"Do you promise?" I asked. Altaïr's eyes found mine and he nodded once. I took his rough, calloused hand and he pulled me up.

I felt my air leave me as I flopped backwards, the second that Altaïr had actually let go of my hand. I felt my ass hit the ground. "Are you alright?" asked Altaïr frantically.

"I've never been on a horse in my life." I admitted, standing up. Altaïr explained to me what to do, and he took his boot out of the stirrup so I could steady myself. With a great lift, he pulled me up behind him. He sat up straighter, and took the short sword on his back off, transferring it to the horn in front of him, where it hung a little pathetically.

"Move closer to me." He said, and I obliged, letting the warmth of his body replace the chill setting in that came with the night. "Now wrap your arms around me, and hold on tight." I did as he said, and he spurred the horse forward. The sudden jump in movement made me grip Altaïr's body tighter. "Relax." He said, slowing the horse down some. I could feel his hips moving slowly back and forth. I had seen this with other riders, though not as subtly. "You won't fall, as long as you're holding onto me." I nodded against his back.

We soon came to a fence. I didn't see this around Altaïr, but I definitely felt it as Altaïr stood up slightly, his body tensing from under my grip. He breathed out quickly and the big black steed launched itself upwards and forwards. I gasped at the sudden change in pace, and scrabbled for a handhold. I found one—a throwing knife. I didn't hold on too hard, for fear of not letting go, but I was tense enough so that Altaïr had stopped the horse. "We won't be jumping over any large objects anymore, but we'll be moving at a quick pace if we want to rendezvous with your brother before sunrise." I nodded and let go of the throwing knife, instead curling my fingers together in front of Altaïr's abdomen.

As he brought the horse up to a trot, I relaxed enough to concentrate. Why had Nabih attacked me in the first place? It seemed all so distant now, as we headed under the great marble and stone columns that lead into the Kingdom. Where were we going? Why was Altaïr here? Where was Malik? Why wasn't I with Malik? Why was I all of a sudden so comfortable around Altaïr? Why was Altaïr so _warm_?

"It's not a good idea to think while on a horse," Said Altaïr, straightening up. I did as well, relaxing my grip and silencing my thoughts.

"Is it that easy to tell?" I mumbled to myself.

"You give off a feeling of confusion and disorganization," He said. I sat up straighter.

"Where are we going?" I asked sternly. Altaïr didn't answer me for a while.

"Malik and I are going to get you out of Masyaf. It's for your own safety." He said quietly.

"My safety—? Does Al Mualim know about this? My parents?" I asked, sputtering.

"I'm sure Malik will explain once we get to Jerusalem. It's a long ride—at least five hundred miles or so—a week's journey. And no, no one knows about this except for the three of us." Altaïr slapped the reins on the beast's neck, making him trot faster.

"Why?" I asked, sitting up straighter. We were passing a guard tower. It wasn't one of ours. "Am I in danger?"

"Potentially. The Templars have a reason to want you in their possession, Amira. The reason this is all done in secret is because Al Mualim wouldn't believe us if we told him what was going on." He explained, for lack of a better word.

"The _Templars_ want me?" I exclaimed.

Unfortunately, this alerted the guards of the nearby Saracen guard tower. They started yelling at Altaïr and me, nocking arrows and drawing swords. Altaïr spurred forward, shouting at the horse. I kept an iron grip on his middle, breathing in Altaïr's back. "Keep your head down, Amira!" he shouted. I nodded and moved over to the side, my face hanging precariously over the rushing ground.

Altaïr took a sharp turn a few seconds later, more and more guards seeming to appear from nowhere. "An ambush!" he yelled. I wondered just how much those Templars wanted me, and who else did as well.

"Assassin!" they shouted. "We have your brother!" they shouted from the tops of the cliffs.

"Malik?" I squeaked, trying to convince myself only I had heard the man say that.

"They've blocked us off. Malik is a much better rider. They were looking for us." Altaïr said to me quietly, rearing the horse suddenly at the approaching soldiers, making me slip out of the saddle and scream.

"Your brother is alive!" they called, laughing a bit. "Just a bit beaten up."

"Let him go!" I yelled, not listening to Altaïr's orders to _get_ _back on the goddamn horse._

"In exchange for you, young mistress!" they called. I could see more and more Saracens gathering around us. Altaïr's words rang in my mind—_they were looking for us_.

"Amira, don't. They're lying—"

"All right!" I called. Some soldiers stepped forward. Altaïr was still trying to get a hold of the horse, which was whinnying and bucking all over the place.

"Amira, stop talking!" he demanded.

"They have _Malik_!" I exclaimed. "You're his _best friend_." I said. Altaïr was finally thrown from the horse, and the soldiers let the horse go, galloping back to Masyaf, no doubt.

"Amira, I swear, if you're wrong about this, I'm going to kill—" he was cut off as they gagged him and bound his wrists. He submitted all too willingly, in my opinion. Knowing what I heard about Altaïr, he could've probably taken them all on without more than a scratch.

"I won't be." I said, before they gagged me as well and walked us up the cliff side.

Altaïr kept growling unintelligible words as we were tossed around by guards. I kept silent, staring straight ahead, concentrating on my footing and balance. And Malik, of course, who was no doubt in one of the orange and black tents lining the outer circle of a fire pit.

The leader, who had talked the most, came up, holding his hand out for me. I was shoved forward, earning the soldiers a shout of anger from Altaïr. I turned my head, pleading for him to calm down. My jaw was grasped by the leader, and I was forced to look at him in his ugly, pockmarked face. "You are quite the beauty, aren't you?" he drawled. "Quite smart, too. We would've killed your friend here had it not been for you." The crowd around him laughed. "Now. Let's get to business. Though you are quite smart, you seem to trust the wrong sorts of people."

Altaïr groaned.

I closed my eyes as someone from behind me raised a shadowed club, swinging it for my silhouetted head. I blacked out cold.

When I came to, all I heard was angry muttering at first. I groaned loudly; my head was throbbing. All of a sudden, I was aware that we were moving, because we stopped, the world crashing into me as someone threw on the brakes. Actually, it wasn't the world crashing into me—it was Altaïr's back.

Something was keeping my hands bound together around his middle, and my knees and body as well. Rope. "Are you alright?" he asked, tilting his head towards me to see if I was awake.

"My head…" I groaned.

"It was better that you were unconscious." He said nonchalantly.

"That's nice…" I said, beginning to nod off. My internal clock told me it was a couple of hours before dawn.

"Amira." Altaïr said sternly. "If you fall asleep now, you might not wake up. That's what happens when you get yourself a concussion." He explained. His voice sounded very alluring, and I shifted myself against his contoured body more comfortably. Wait. Did I just describe Altaïr as _contoured_? I didn't even know what that _meant_! "We're nearly to where Malik said to meet him." Altaïr encouraged.

"Malik? He wasn't at the camp?" I asked, rubbing my eyes on my shoulder, attempting not to fall asleep on Altaïr's warm, apparently _contoured_, body.

"No, he wasn't. Which means that I get to kill you now." I felt my breath leave my body in a single, forced moment. My eyes got wide and I attempted to scoot further back in the seat, away from Altaïr. "That's not what I meant—"

"AMIRA!" someone shouted. It was Malik. Altaïr untied the ropes around me, dropping them to the trail below us before Malik could see what was going on.

Altaïr rode toward a nearby campsite, with a small fire set up. Malik's spotted horse was grazing in a nearby field. Altaïr got off the horse, and helped me off. Immediately, sharp fingers of pain shot up my thighs and back. I nearly collapsed, had it not been for Altaïr supporting me by my elbow. He led me over to the campsite, and Malik rushed to me.

"Did anything go wrong?" he asked.

"Saracens along the way, but we out rode them." Altaïr said for me. "Right, Amira?" his eyes were dancing in the tiny flames not a few feet to our right. I nodded once, my eyes not leaving his.

"That's good. Come, I've made dinner." Malik ushered us over to the campfire, Altaïr close behind me.

"Dinner" consisted of day-old bread and a disgusting concoction of tea that Malik swore didn't come from a bush less than three meters away, no matter how hard I prodded at him. Altaïr was silent. He was obviously deep in thought.

We went to sleep for a few hours after that, and when we woke, the sun was already beginning its ascent into the sky. Malik explained that Altaïr would get me up to speed as we made our way to Jerusalem, and that he was riding ahead of us, to tell the Bureau leader and try to convince him to let me stay. Everything was so confusing that I just nodded in agreement and partial understanding. Within ten minutes of saying this, he left on his horse, warning Altaïr that should anything come to harm me, he would wring his neck with his own bare hands.

Altaïr and I began our slow trot to Jerusalem an hour after, neither of us talking.

Through the winding trails and mountain climbs, we went three days in silence, not talking with the exception of who would sleep where, and who would gather firewood (I always did; Altaïr hunted small animals with his hidden assassins' blade on his left forearm—where he was missing his ring finger. So _that's _why Malik had been so nervous).

On the fourth day, I finally broke down and asked Altaïr why the Templars were after me.

"Are you sure you want to know? Ignorance is bliss, believe me. Doubly so in this situation."

"Tell me, so I can understand why you're taking me away from my home, from my friends, and my family." I said, staring him down. We were taking a break for the horse in the middle of the day—we were going to leave in a couple of minutes. The pain in my legs was finally beginning to subside, only a dull uncomfortable feeling now.

"Let's go. I'll tell you as we travel." He said, packing up the food. We would have to stop in a small village for supplies. Thank God Altaïr had gotten his short sword before the Masyaf horse had galloped off into the night. We were traveling on a stout raven-black mare that would only let me ride her. When Altaïr did anything but guide the reins over rough terrain, she would snap her teeth at him. Altaïr was perplexed—he was so used to horses bending at his will like a piece of wet straw. I smirked at his lack of control as I rode on the horse. Altaïr said the first thing we were doing in the next town was trading her for a big, beastly animal, and leaving this one behind. I had named the mare under me 'Nyx' after the night she so well blended in with.

"Malik and I were on our third mission together, and we were to assassinate a Templar weapons supplier, Rajan Al-Bakr. We were watching one of his storehouses, minutes before we were to perform the deed, when Al-Bakr started to boast loudly to his subordinates. He was talking about how the Master had entrusted him with some great secret about a Prophecy, and not to tell anyone. Obviously, the man was drunk. So, he goes on to say that in the Prophecy, there is a girl that will supposedly become a goddess of death itself, from what we could interpret. The man said that the girl was supposed to be of great beauty, and the descendant of a Neutral and a Templar. She was an Assassin, or so the Prophecy says. But then things began to get a little strange—he had said that the Catalyst, so they called her, was the descendant of Amira A-Sayf." He looked up at me, making the horse huff in his face. I met his eyes.

"How did they know my name?" I asked.

"After Al-Bakr had left his storehouse, Malik and I followed him to a private courtyard, where we interrogated him, then killed him. He didn't know anything about you, but he knew that the Templars were trying to kill you. He knew who Malik was, too, but that must've been a giveaway when your brother said 'Why are you going to kill my sister?'" he laughed, and I did as well. In retrospect, it was a completely inappropriate time to laugh, but we did anyway. It was a nice change in pace from the silence of the last three days.

"So they're going to kill me because of my future _children_?" I asked, clarifying what he had said.

"That's what it sounds like." Altaïr said.

"Well, then. And you think the Jerusalem Assassins' Bureau is the safest place for me?" I asked.

"In my opinion?" he asked, looking up at me. I nodded. "No. I think you'd be safer in Masyaf, married." I scoffed.

"You're jesting about that last part, right?" I asked, bewildered. The memory of Nabih, with his slimy tongue all over me, wanted to make me take a bath.

"I didn't say you'd be happier, or even that it was the safest place to be. I said it'd be _safer_. The _safest_ place for you is right here next to me, on this horse." He said, holding his hand up to pat Nyx, but stopping just short of doing so.

"I believe it's quite dangerous to be around you." I mused aloud.

"Hmm?" he inquired, interested.

"Because your company seems to bring me danger, I only just know how to ride a horse, and you yourself have threatened to kill me." I said, blinking at the back of his head with a great intensity I could only describe as 'sarcasm through eyes'.

"I already told you, that's not what I meant by that." He said grumpily. He tugged on Nyx impatiently. She snapped at his hood, ripping the fabric and yanking his head back. Altaïr let out a cry of alarm and tried to release himself from her jaws.

"All your negative energy is really what's doing it." I said through my giggles. I know I'd have to sew that for him. I know he'd refuse, but I'd insist, and he'd give in, knowing how ridiculous he'd look walking through the streets of Jerusalem.

"Maybe it's just the—horse!" he said, tugging his hood out of Nyx's mouth. I told him to stop.

"You're ripping it even worse!" I insisted, laughing. Altaïr stopped, and I lurched forward on Nyx. I patted her neck calmly. "Please let go of dear Altaïr's hood." I said to her. Nyx huffed once and unclamped her teeth from the once-white material. Altaïr kept his hood off.

"I don't think I want to wear that for the rest of the week." He said, disgusted.

"Then you'd need new clothes as well as food and a horse in the next town. Will we have the funds to support that?" I asked.

"Definitely not. We're stealing everything." He said, calm and collected. I, on the other hand, was not.

"Excuse me, but I'm not a kleptomaniac, unlike _you_." I said, as Altaïr began to walk forward again.

"I don't remember the sun being this bright." He said to himself.

"I don't remember assassins taking off their hoods. You wear it like a damn crown." I smirked at his glare.

"It's something to be proud about." He said.

"Why?"

"Because it shows that we have higher morals than that of the rest of society. And it helps with the sun, as you've noticed." In fact, the only thing I've noticed is the pale, untouched skin at the back of his head. I wanted to reach out and feel if it was as soft as I'd imagined, but I knew he'd slice off my hand for getting too close without his regard. Wait, did he just say _the rest of society!_

An hour later, we'd found our town. It was ideal—there was an inn, a stable, and a market all within a few meters of each other. Altaïr went over to the inn and I was to stay outside with Nyx. I started saying goodbye as Altaïr came out, and led the mare over to the stables, where he had a word with the stable boy before returning with a handful of coins. "There's a free meal in the inn. Let's make the most of it." He said, leading me in.

We ate in silence, and we went up to the room, as an assumed married couple. The innkeepers were very old-fashioned, and Altaïr had said that we were married just to get a free room for the night. Our alibi was that we were traveling to Jerusalem to visit my parents.

I was relieved when I saw the bathtub in the corner. Altaïr said he'd go get water, and when he returned, I thanked him. He left the room to go "retrieve" our supplies needed. I sighed and undressed, slipping down into the water slowly, letting it wash over the hot bruises and sore muscles all over my legs and ass. I had pinned up my hair to keep it from getting wet, but I took it down once I felt how _heavenly _the bath was. I rubbed my hands through it, watching it turn from brown to black as the water freed the accumulated dirt. There was a bar of sweet-smelling soap next to me. I scrubbed my feet and legs first, working my way up to my hair. Soon all around me, the scent reminded me of a beautiful flower I'd seen one day as a little girl. It had four petals, all different colors of blue, and there were three small leaves underneath them. I'd picked it to show my brother. He'd kept it in his room for a week before it had died, or so he said. The rushed memory of Malik and life before being a fugitive made me relax back into the water, soothing my mind with the constant smell of the soap. But soon, the water had brought wrinkles to my skin, and it had run cold. I got out, dripping wet. I dried myself off and dressed, with less than a minute to spare before Altaïr walked in.

Altaïr had let me sleep on the tiny bed, but I told him to use it—he had been walking all day and night for three days. He happily obliged, and I fell asleep against the hard wood floor, trying to remember Jerusalem.

The world flashed white and I felt myself being pulled out of the machine.

* * *

_Well. Told you Alty would be back. :) Please review!_


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